Strange Love
by dulce.de.leche.go
Summary: Hermione finds herself having to assist one Draco Malfoy with a family curse come to light the year of his 21st birthday. With no option but to work together with mere months left, the two find themselves entwined in a way neither would have suspected possible. Rated M for language and deviant sexual situations. Story loosely based on events and timeline of Beauty and the Beast.
1. Prologue - The New Year

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent. Thank you, and goodnight!

[Edited 12/7/13 for some continuity issues...]

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_**Sunday, December 31, 2000 – 11:00PM**_

The little clock on the mantel chimed softly in the dim light of the flat, a faint sound that signified the soon-to-be closing of another year – a rather horrible year for one Hermione Granger. The young witch sighed heavily, her head falling back with a dull thud to the back of her sofa as she twirled the stem of a champagne flute between her fingers. She should be at the Ministry ball with her friends and colleagues ringing in the new year, but no, here she was, curled up on her couch in her comfortable pajamas – a multitude of adorable cartoony cows decorating the legs of the cotton pants with scattered sentiments dotting the spaces here and there reading 'Moo!' - doing what many a person may be able to interpret as _sulking_.

Hermione scoffed at the thought. _'I don't sulk...top of my class, a talented, accomplished, and powerful witch – not to mention an **essential third** of The Golden Trio that defeated the most feared dark wizard of her generation in all of wizarding Britain! Hermione Jean Granger doesn't sulk...'_ Yet there she was, very distinctly sulking.

To say it had been a bad year for her personally would have been an insulting understatement. She couldn't even claim that the year had started off well enough. Oh no. The year had started with a failed marriage proposal and the near immediate loss of a decade long friendship. The stress and anxiety of such a dramatic upheaval in her life managed to affect her performance at work, much as she tried to deny it. With everyone's lives changing so rapidly after the conclusion of the war, Hermione found herself without her normal solid rock of Harry, or even Ginny, to fall back on as they were too engrossed in their own new marriage and professional lives to spare much more beyond a sympathetic shoulder or evening here and there. The dip in her job performance was all too noticeable and as lenient as her superiors attempted to be, it was just too obvious for them to not take action – as a result, she found herself placed under a probationary period where she would be very meticulously scrutinized by some higher-ups and if her work was found to be unsatisfactory in the slightest it would lead to her termination.

With a disgruntled groan at thinking about her year to this day, Hermione tossed back the remaining champagne in her glass and proceeded to dump what was remaining of the bottle on the table in front of her into it. Tossing the now empty bottle aside, she huffed and fell back into the cushions resuming her earlier position, swiping a clammy hand over her face with a muffled noise of frustration. She'd never failed at **anything** before, how could she have done such an abysmal job with **everything** this year?

Reflecting on it all again – for the billionth time up to now – she really had no one else to blame but herself. She should have known and acknowledged the signs when she'd seen them instead of ignoring them and brushing them off as clearly insignificant things that would totally and ultimately never come back to haunt her. She and Ron had started officially dating shortly after _The Battle of Hogwarts_ and things were well enough for a little bit afterward, but there were some things very blatantly missing from their relationship. Heated kisses in mysterious secret chambers under magical buildings were all well and good in the middle of a war that you didn't expect to see the end of and all, but once removed from all these regularly life threatening ordeals and dropped into the real world, many endearing traits quickly became irritating and downright outrageous.

Ron had always been a bit of a jealous individual, even before he realized that he'd _**liked**_ liked her and not just _liked_ her liked her. In school it was cute, flattering to a degree. To know that he was so protective of her and coupled with her curious infatuation with him, it was a bit of a turn on – a white knight vision if you will. Not that she ever felt she was ever in need of his protection per se, but the sentiment was appreciated. Now that they were adults, it was downright oppressive! Where was she going? Who was she going to see? How long would she be gone? The request – ahem – heavily implied demand – that she not be alone with any of her male colleagues without trustworthy supervision...it was just ridiculous!

Aside from the all too clingy behavior, the fact that intellectually he couldn't keep up with her in conversation was just depressing. She loved Ronald, she truly did, but between snogging and a decidedly tame sex life, there turned out to be very little to fill the void. But she stayed. Of course she did. What else was she supposed to do? Everyone knew they were supposed to be together "after all they'd been through", it was just one of those things. Except it wasn't.

She thought she could do it until on that fateful day, one year ago today, at the regal ballroom rented out by the Ministry for their annual New Year's party when Ronald Weasley dropped to one knee and procured a tiny little box from the pocket of his dress robes. Popping open the small velvet box and giving her an eyeful of a gaudy gold band topped with a too big, blocky looking red stone with a smattering of little diamonds on either side of it – since taking an auror position with the Ministry he liked to find ways to show that he was now making more money than traditionally expected of one with the 'Weasley' surname – he asked with only a little hesitation, "Hermione Jean Granger, will you be my wife?"

Eyes wide as saucers, a churning feeling in the pit of her stomach as she eyed this ring – a material representation of just how _wrong_ this relationship was, from her least favorite metal and stone to the size and shape of the cut of it...it was everything that he expected her to want and not at all what he should know by now to fit her personality and tastes – she replied simply, breathily, "N-no. I can't. I can't Ronald, I'm so sorry." Taking a few stumbling steps away from him, she was only briefly able to see the flood of emotions washing across his face: shock, hurt, anger, despair, sorrow; right before she apparated somewhere far away to drink herself into a depressed stupor.

Familiar chimes rang out softly from the mantel clock again signifying the turnover to the midnight hour and the official beginning of the new year. Peeling her hand away from her face, Hermione's eyes slid irritatedly to her fireplace as she listened to the clock and was glad she'd closed the floo to guests so she could properly wallow in her misery. "Bottoms up," she saluted her delicate glass to the clock and downed the entirety of it in several loud and very unladylike gulps before loosing a little hiccup and furrowing her brows at the dry and tangy alcohol fizzing its way down her throat and into her belly. Sighing again, she flopped on her stomach onto the cushions, glaring at the mantel through heavy lidded eyes with all the intentions in the world of just resting her eyes – just for a moment.

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_**Sunday, December 31, 2000 – 11:00PM**_

The fire roared in the hearth in the manor's sitting room like there wasn't a thing wrong in the world. Witches and wizards were out celebrating yet another year done, another year without a crazy looney bin snake-faced half-blood trying to purify the world of other half-bloods and Muggle-borns alike. They were out in their fancy gowns and robes, dancing, drinking, being carefree and jovial while some, like himself, probably sat at home or in a dark corner of a bar just...brooding. There wasn't really a better word for it, not that he'd admit it aloud, but that's what it was. A spade's a spade after all.

Draco swirled the amber liquid in his glass thoughtfully before taking a long pull of it, satisfied by the familiar burning sensation at the back of his throat. The manor was deathly quiet aside from the steady crackling of the fire he was staring into deep in thought. All of the other occupants of the large estate were either the house elves, hiding gods knew where until summoned, or gone.

After the final battle had ended and the war had officially come to a close, he had hoped so foolishly that the Wizengamot would see that their parts had been essential to the turn of the tides! He'd never been an overly brave man, much more inclined to save his own skin than another's – he was no Gryffindor after all – but he was sure that the council would see that the Malfoys played an integral part of the game in this last war and would at least be rewarded with a full pardon. Unfortunately, he had only been partially right.

Narcissa had been the first to be cleared of all charges, her role in lying to Voldemort being the most obvious to them all as having allowed Mr. Harry Potter to complete the prophecy and destroy the dark wizard even without The Chosen One's own testimony to help their decision along.

Draco had been next to face the stoic faces passing their judgment. He remained equally stoic on the outside but his anxiety levels were internally racing and out of control. He was no fool, he knew what a prat he'd been to Scarhead and his crew over the years, but they were just schoolyard antics! He'd had a very real chance to turn him in, all of them in, in this very sitting room but he'd lied – well he skirted the truth really, not lied, liars don't get full pardons...so clearly he simply omitted some things and then there was the commotion with the old house elf and really what else could be done at that point? But he did help! The trio lived another day and enough days moving forward to end the damn war – what more did the damn council want from him anyway? They'd murmured amongst themselves about the charges presented against him but were struck with an eerie silence when that same Mr. Potter testified for his childhood rival, echoing Draco's mental justifications of all the ways he really wasn't a supporter of the snake-man. Imagine further Draco's surprise when none other than Gryffindor's own Golden Girl, Hermione Granger, took the stand to testify the same. She'd known, she said, she'd known that he was troubled that year and that things happened beyond his control as he was simply still a child to his parents then, one that just happened to be put in a very bad predicament. The tasks he'd been given, he couldn't, wouldn't, or didn't do in part or in their entirety and because of this, they were able to accomplish what _they_ had needed to do to bring us here today. She really was a marvelous speaker – for what she was, anyway – or maybe it was just because he'd never heard her speaking about him in any positive way before that he found it more tolerable than ever before. In any case, it was enough and his pardon was issued as well.

Lucius was the last to be sentenced and it wasn't until his father was on trial that he'd realized that he hadn't really had any notable and redeeming deeds he could think of that the Trio could even possibly speak on, even if they wanted to! Draco's relationship with his father had been whittled away and deteriorated so significantly that last year that he honestly hadn't cared less at the idea the man would be rotting in a cell in Azkaban for the rest of his life. Draco may have been ingrained with the Slytherin mindset from early on and worked to protect himself above all others, but he'd also known of the loyalty aspect, or at least a familial loyalty. When Lucius essentially offered him up to the Dark Lord in desperation for a chance to have the Malfoy name redeemed, punishing Draco himself for any and all failures in addition to any he might receive from the other wizard, Lucius became filth in his eyes. No, Draco could really give two shits if Lucius Malfoy withered away as an insane or emotionless husk in the dark, dank prison of Azkaban.

Draco, however, cared deeply for his mother. He also knew that, unfortunately, as cold of a couple as they may have appeared to others, truly loved each other. If they took his father away from her, he knew she too would eventually wither away to nothing. And again, unfortunately, that's exactly what had happened. The sentence came down with no miraculous and life saving testimonies to save him and Lucius was carted back to his prison cell in that godawful place.

To her credit, Narcissa did well for a while. They were at least allowed routine visits to see his father and that seemed to help her. It wasn't until the visits showcased the older man's growing despair at being locked in the dreadful place that Narcissa's own condition started to fade. Seeing her once proud husband reduced to a shell of his former proud self proved to be too much and her spiral into a horrible depression began. Draco had been working to restore the Malfoy name as best he could - the name being respected still in some circles, but majorly shunned in most; particularly by the more outspoken Potter supporters - but he'd had to put things on hold to take care of his mother's declining health. It was only a few months ago now that he'd finally had to bite and admit her into St. Mungo's for supervised care that he just couldn't give her in their family home.

A regal grandfather clock began to chime the twelfth hour and Draco sneered, mulling over thoughts of what this new year could possibly bring to trump the last few. Swirling his drink in his glass again, he brought it to his lips for another sip but just as soon dropped it with a sudden crash.

_Ting...six.._

His skin was on fire. It felt like it was literally covered in flames, licking at every expanse of flesh, every pore. Draco began shaking, feeling his temperature rising drastically, and jumped to his feet from the plush seat he'd been lounging in til now.

_Tong...seven..._

He hurriedly shrugged off his tailored jacket, not taking a second thought as the expensive material landed in a heap on the manor floor. Quick to follow was his black turtleneck as he ripped it over his head and threw it aside. Still trembling he looked to his hands and arms, looking for signs of burns – magical or otherwise – and was frustrated to find none.

_Ting..eight.._

Draco was granted only a small reprieve before the pain started. Crying out suddenly, he fell to his knees, hitting the cold tile with a loud thud, a harsh grunt pulled from his lips. Groaning, he braced himself with his palms flat on the floor as his body started producing grating and grinding noises. Bones shifted and rubbed together to reform themselves into something different, larger, and decidedly more wicked.

_Tong...nine.._

His ribs cracked, expanded, his chest barreling out and making his already lean muscles look more sleek as they stretched to fit his growing frame. Draco felt his spine reset itself, creating a more natural feeling hunch to his bent body writhing on the ground. Twin peaks pierced through the skin of his scalp on either side of his head, angry looking horns pushing through with such ease curling forward something akin to a bull's.

_Ting..ten.._

Arching back, finding himself mostly stuck in a half hunched posture, Draco cried out again on his knees, the sound rapidly becoming a deeper and more gravelly growl than anything discernible as human. His feet gained muscle and bones stretched, pinched in his fine leather shoes until they finally burst through them to reveal things that could only be described as massive hind paws – thick black claws and all. He chanced a look back to them and truly wished he hadn't, his eyes catching sight of his hands as well which were also shifting to become large padded and black tipped hands...claws.

_Ting..eleven.._

Struggling to his feet and balancing on his changed appendages, he stumbled forward to the fireplace and clutched at the mantel as the changes hastened. His frame finished filling out, all together not all that much taller than he was minutes earlier but much, much broader and a thick wall of muscle that ripped and shredded the remainder of his fine clothing as it grew. Letting out a strangled roar, his vocal chords completed their shifting to a deeper baritone just shy of changing octaves altogether. Canines sharpened alongside his other blunt teeth to a mouth full of fangs designed to rend and kill as his face pushed painfully out into a short muzzle to accommodate their new sizes and shapes, ears expanding as well reminiscent of a bull's own. A flood of coarse russet fur grew like water flowing easily over a rock – covering every exposed inch of flesh and stealing away any sign of his humanity.

_Ting tong...twelve.._

Eyes that he'd not realized he'd shut, shot open, still a silvery gray as before though they glittered like molten silver with his emotions running rampant behind them. Disoriented and fuzzy headed, Draco blinked a few times and stumbled about, eyes darting confusedly around the sitting room until he spotted what he could of himself again in the reflection of a china cabinet. Catching sight of his hands and flipping them palm side up, then down, then up again, he snarled in a sudden rush of white-hot rage. Gripping the closest object – the lounge chair – he angrily flung it across the room. Only slightly sated by the act, his large bestial form half-stumbled on two legs, half-lumbered on four, from object to object overturning tables and chairs and decimating everything he could touch that wasn't completely immovable.

Surveying the wreckage with only mildly appeased bloodlust, Draco clambered to just his hind feet again and tossed back his head to roar – a great haunting noise that reverberated through the walls of the manor, leaking into the night and the surrounding forest carrying with it a certain sound of anger and despair.

_Happy New Year._


	2. Chapter 1 - The Assignment

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N: ** A couple more to get things started. Updates goal is at least once per week going forward.

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_**Monday, January 22, 2001 –**** 10:00AM**_

Tick..tick..tick..tick..

Hermione pointed a sidelong glance at the clock on her supervisor's wall, the steady ticking of the little object making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle in her anxiety. Wringing her hands together in her lap, legs tightly crossed at the ankle with her right one bouncing a bit in nervousness, she worried her bottom lip between her teeth while she waited for someone to come in and let her in on why she'd been called to the office this time. Hermione was no fool, she knew that she was still under her probationary period and that this was probably just another evaluation to let her know where she stood but she couldn't help the restless churning of her gut today - her intuition telling her that today was going to be a very unpleasant day.

Just as quickly as she'd began her downward spiral of dismal thoughts in her head, the handle of the office door jiggled and signified its opening and she was pulled completely back to the present. The sight of the Minister - Kingsley Shacklebolt - stepping through the entryway and shutting the door quietly behind him was both uplifting and horrifying at the same time. She moved to get up to greet him but he waved her back down into her seat and made his way to her, taking to leaning against her superior's desk facing her instead of occupying the seat behind it.

"Hermione Granger," he smiled softly down at her, "I regret to say that it has been far too long since I've gotten to see you."

She brightened visibly, the worry lines fading briefly from around her eyes and she returned his smile, "Kings- ah-I mean, Minister, it's good to see you."

The man chuckled and shook his head, "Kingsley is more than good with me, Hermione." Kingsley's face sobered a bit, his smile faltered, "How have you been doing?"

The lines were back, Hermione let out a sigh, her right leg starting its nervous jiggling again, "Better. Not great, but better." She had no doubt that between his personal association with herself and Harry in addition to his position as Minister that he'd heard more than his fair share of all the down and dirty events happening in both her romantic and work lives. Feeling like he probably wasn't really here to discuss the intricacies of her love life with her, she tried to redirect quickly, skipping straight past the cordial pleasantries she would've observed otherwise, "I have really been able to begin focusing on work again. Reichard has been giving me several cases that I feel have truly been easing me back into the swing of things and have sufficiently challenged my abilities to the point where I believe I'm ready to be reinstated to my position in its full capacity. I-"

Kingsley cut off her professional self-evaluation with a raised hand and a chuckle, shaking his head again, "Stop, stop, stop. I'm not here to evaluate you. I _am_ here to talk to you in some capacity about your probation but I'm not going to go over your paperwork - that's Reichard's job...and off the record, we both know those cases that he's been giving you are a load of dung." The way he'd said the last part with a charming smirk and quirk of one dark eyebrow did well to dissolve more of the seriousness from the air.

Hermione released a breathy chuckle, tension flowing out of her shoulders just a bit. She wiped a sweaty hand over her face and looked up at the man she'd come to know as a friend - certain she'd looked as weary as he'd ever seen her, "Yes, well...I can appreciate the thought behind them I suppose. I'm sure he's meant well in any case..."

The Pity Cases, as she'd come to call them, were what she imagined were her boss' attempt at trying to pad her 'detention' for his _favorite_ caseworker. Hermione's stress and depression had affected her work longer than she'd been on probation and she knew that her superiors tried to keep from taking any disciplinary action against her but it was just too obvious for them to ignore any longer. Now she was under an excruciatingly long one year probation during which everything she did would be seriously evaluated to determine if she was fit to return to her normal role in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that she'd just transferred into prior to the new year's fiasco. The oh-so-trying – a.k.a. frivolous and stupid – casework from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was Reichard's way of making her punishment easier and they were driving her absolutely bonkers!

"Let me level with you," clasping his hands loosely over his thighs as he stretched out a bit from his perch on the desk, Shacklebolt gave her a serious look, "I need you to come back to the department you belong in, running at one hundred and ten percent like you always do. While I find myself in a certain fortuitous position of power to be able to remove this 'time out'...it wouldn't be prudent of me to do so."

Opening her mouth to protest, Hermione was stopped short by Kingsley's politely raised hand indicating that he wasn't yet done speaking. She snapped her jaw shut again and did her best to listen, desperately wanting to beg to be let out of this ridiculous purgatory of ornery pixies and overly entitled unicorns. He had to have had a good reason to call her here today aside from essentially saying he can't do anything for her, right? That wasn't his style after all...

Kingsley reached into the folds of robes to procure a neatly folded piece of parchment. The deep emerald wax seal had already been broken showing that whatever this was had been read at least once before. He motioned for her to take the letter waiting until she had it in hand before continuing. "I received this in the post yesterday, it came directly to me as an escalated issue and one of extreme confidentiality," he eyed her as she traced over the dried wax with her fingertips, nodding the go-ahead for her to read the contents as he spoke. "I can't pull you out of your temporary department to save your sanity, but I can give you the option for something much more your pace."

Hermione's eyes flitted across the neatly written script, her brows drawn in concentration. She'd seen this writing somewhere before but she couldn't place it off the top of her head, the seal was familiar as well but it had been broken and chipped from being opened so she was unable to place the author. The further she read into the note, the more her eyes widened and her eyebrows made a steady climb into her hairline, her complexion paling a bit once she took in the entirety of the letter and its sender_._

She turned a confused and questioning gaze up to the older man, "How...how does..I mean that is to say.." she shook her head and tried again, "I don't understand how this would fall into my current jurisdiction."

He shrugged, "I will be honest and say I'm not entirely sure. Mr. Malfoy sent this to me personally and as you can see, he requested 'our most accomplished individual in the department for magical creatures'. Seeing as he impressed several times the need for secrecy and confidentiality, I'm sure there's quite an interesting story behind it somewhere." The last was said with an amused quirk of his lips.

Hermione shook her head, scanning over the letter again, "But he mentions something about a family curse that's just been brought to light. I'll admit that Draco Malfoy, being a wizard and whatnot, could technically be defined as a 'magical creature' but I'm fairly positive that's not what this department does."

Kingsley pushed off the desk, retrieving the letter from her and gave it a once over again before tucking it back into an inner pocket of his robes. "Who knows? Maybe if it is not resolved in the necessary time frame the manor will be overrun by gnomes," he offered with a shrug, "If I understand correctly, you have just shy of six months left on your probation and this case seems to mesh well with your schedule."

"I..yes, I suppose it does.."

"It's already much more interesting than sitting in on the re-evaluation and debates for Merpeople's rights, no?"

"Well – I-I suppose it is-"

"Would you prefer I let Reichard send you into the centaur territories again for renegotiation?"

"NO!" Half out of her spot in her chair, she calmed herself and smoothed her skirt, "No...I'll take the case of course. If there is going to be another silly magical creatures issue to deal with, I may as well be the one to deal with whatever is plaguing Malfoy. At least I know more of what to expect, I'd hate to subject anyone else in this department to that king-sized prat – off the record."

At that, he chuckled again and nodded to the clock on the wall that was softly tick-tick-ticking away. "You had best plan to take the floo over soon – I'd sent a return owl yesterday that I would send someone today around noon. Whatever is going on, he demanded that there be no one over late in the evening. The daily cut off time he issued is seven thirty each night, no one is to be in the manor past that time with or without supervision. Whatever _**is**_ going in with the boy, it's enough to have him spooked and despite your past together, I know you will treat the issue with the seriousness necessary."

She allowed a half concerned look to flit across her features but quickly eased back into her professional mask she'd become so used to wearing. Hermione looked at the clock as well and noted the time – just past 11 now, enough time for a quick bite to eat and then off to face her fate. "Of course."

It had been almost a solid three years since she'd last seen Draco Malfoy. She had, of course, seen him at his trial after the final battle at which she'd testified for him to help keep him out of prison. Hermione had known deep in her gut that Draco was not as horrible of a man as his father and while he made her adolescent school life a living hell, she'd seen things within him change. Once bigoted and proud without a second thought to the things he would say about Muggle-borns – _Mudbloods_ – the war changed him, _Voldemort_ changed him. Seeing these fancy ideals he'd been raised with enacted to the very serious extremes, the deaths of his professors and classmates he'd seen in the halls for the better part of seven years, being commanded to enact these things himself by a supremely dark and immensely intimidating and powerful dark wizard, yet hesitating... Defying him, failing him when the reality and magnitude of the situation was made clear even if his shortcomings _**were**_ caused by fear...war changed him by drawing a line in the sand to show him very clearly the point at which he would not – _could not_ - cross and she would be slapped in the face with a broomstick and called a daft bint before she would let him rot in prison and be rid of any potential of becoming a better man.

Tick...tick...tick..tick..tick...

Hermione sighed heavily at the annoying steadiness of the wall clock's ticking and pulled herself from the chair in the now empty office – she was right, today _was_ going to be a very unpleasant day.

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**_Monday, January 22, 2001 –_****_ 1_****_2_****_:00_****_P_****_M_**

He eyed the clock, someone should be here soon, Kingsley had said noon...or around noon, or maybe afternoon? Bugger, he'd said noon something! Draco did his best not to pace out of anxiousness with little success, so he took a seat on the loveseat and faced the fireplace but focused more on his hands, his _human_ hands. They trembled lightly and he had to take several deep breaths, closing his eyes a long moment before opening them again with an equally long and slow exhale. Someone would be here soon and it wouldn't do for him to be completely out of sorts, not if he expected them to take him seriously.

The seated blonde continued staring at his hands as if he were trying to commit the look of them to memory like they'd be stolen away from him at any moment. His first transformation on New Year's Day came on so suddenly that he had no idea what to think. Upon waking up the next morning in the manor's gardens dirtied up from head to toe and covered in little else aside from shredded dress slacks that did little to hide his most essential bits, he thought to chalk it up to a heavy night of drinking and hallucinations. When it happened again the next evening shortly after the sun had set, catching him by surprise – though thankfully at home – and then again the next night, everything became much more startlingly real.

Each change left him fuzzy headed upon waking the next day – somehow human again every time – but the memories would flood in quickly after he got his bearings. Worse than just these thoughts of things he'd done the night before were the actual _sensory_ pieces that would come with them. The smells, the sounds, the way it all looked was a stark difference to how he'd ever seen the world before. It alarmed him most because these things, these traits and abilities of this beast, became harder to shake and harder to distinguish between **_its_** thoughts and his own. It was completely unacceptable! He was a Malfoy dammit! Malfoys didn't lumber around on four legs like a dog! They didn't stalk through the wicked forest surrounding the manor in the wee hours of the morning. They didn't track prey in anticipation of sinking their teeth into its jugular and severing their windpipe then breaking their spine with a violent snap of his jaw and shake of his head. They didn't fantasize about the thick liquid of its blood still warm and flowing in rivulets over his mouth, neck, and chest, slicking down his thick fur as the dying animal released its bowels, the stench of it hot and heavy on the cold winter night's air...

Draco shivered at the recollection and swallowed thickly, the sound of the floo activating pulling him from his reverie. His eyes focused on the slim woman appearing from the fireplace, too shocked to put the appropriate amount of derision in his voice before her name slipped out, "Granger?"

She'd been fussing lightly with smoothing her skirt after she'd stepped through, the navy colored fabric complimented her skin tone nicely, the skirt itself hugged professionally close to her thighs and hips just shy of being knee length. She wore a matching jacket that buttoned simply at the level of her naval, just at the skirt's waistband, allowing a crisp v-shaped view of her simple but slightly frilly white blouse, the frills and split lapel of the jacket drew the eye to the soft swell of her chest. Her typically untamable hair was surprisingly...well...tamed. The usual thick bushy curls fell much more smoothly than he'd ever seen them before and the entire mass of it all was actually drawn up – anchored somehow at the back of her head in a not quite ponytail or bun, just enough to move it off her neck and shoulders and expose a lightly tanned expanse of flesh that was broken only by a simple silver chain with a delicately shaped metal lily that rested short of the soft shadow of cleavage peeking above that silly little frilly shirt.

Hermione's head snapped up from eying her skirt having to search only a moment before she saw him sitting there on one of the too fancy couches around the too fancy coffee table. Getting a quick handle on her surprise of him being _right there _so suddenly after all this time she stepped more into the room, the sound of her sensible heels on the tile uncomfortably loud. "Malfoy," it was more an affirmation than anything else. "Good to see you again." Hermione offered him a tight and awkward smile, doing her best to try and start things off right.

Draco arched an eyebrow at this, "Yeah..you too I suppose." His previous anxiety was swiftly being replaced by confusion and a growing sense of irritation as to why his old schoolmate was standing before him now. He knew she'd worked for the Ministry but had thought – no he was sure – she was in another department. The press still loved to follow the Golden Trio's lives about and he was sure he'd read somewhere that she'd been transferred and promoted into an important position within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she couldn't possibly be his...no. He'd stood suddenly, interrupting something she'd been saying just a moment before, "_YOU'RE_ who they sent for my case?"

She blinked once...twice...three times, the irritation bloomed onto her features and she easily set into a so familiar stance, weight on one leg with the other jutted out slightly to the side of her and her hands placed firmly and sternly on her hips. "Yes. As I was saying...Kingsley provided me with a brief overview of your problem here at the manor and asked if I would take the case. Seeing as you'd requested the most competent agent of the department, I thought I would take pity on you and lend my services lest you be stuck with some tree hugging type." '_You incorrigible twat,' _she huffed internally.

Grey eyes narrowed, "The only services I'd require of you, _Granger_, would certainly not have you in that prim little suit unless it was hiked up and you were bent over the chaise." The words came out before he could stop them, lewd and venomous.

Hermione met his narrowed gaze with one of her own, feeling a quick rush of anger flood into her face and she knew he could see the flush. '_So much for starting things off right.'_The corner of her left eye twitched imperceptibly and the fingers of her right hand curled themselves into a tightening fist of their own accord. Taking one deep breath and blowing it out calmly, she willed herself to remain professional. It had been almost 3 years since she'd seen this boy-turned-man, had testified for his freedom so he could have a chance on his own to cease being the schoolyard bully she'd always known; this was no way to have a reunion. That settled it, she would proceed with taking things back up the high road:

"Yes, well..sad to say, **_Malfoy_**, that the only services of mine you'll enjoy partaking in will be involving assisting you to solve this family curse problem because even if I were some sort of escort, _th__ese_ bits and pieces," she punctuated with an angry step into his space bubble, "Would be more expensive than even your family fortune could afford, not to mention that I'm too much woman for a little prick like you to handle." _Shit._

Hermione's invasion of his space caught him slightly off guard, her proximity closer than he'd ever recalled they'd been in school. The subtle smell of fresh linens and an airy barely there floral scent he couldn't place assaulted his nose very suddenly, chased with a spicy smell he could almost taste on the back of his tongue. Her terse words drew the sneer he'd perfected over the last decade to his lips as he straightened to a full head taller than she at the very least. "Dangerous words for a prude such as yourself, witch." If the sudden animosity were to be visible between them, he suspected it would manifest itself as crackles of raging lightning snapping between the two. "Maybe we should floo Kingsley and see what he has to say about this – his most esteemed agent coming out and accosting me like that. Let's find out, shall we?" And just like that he stepped away and around her with exaggerated intent on calling on the Minister himself to have Granger reassigned to...well to anywhere but here.

Her eyes went wide, the angry tension between them snapped and fizzled as soon as she realized what he was doing. He baited her yes, but he fully intended on making good on this threat and she couldn't afford him to report something like this back to Kingsley. Friend or no, if such a complaint came from a Malfoy of all people while she was still under probation that would be it – the end of her career at the Ministry. "Draco NO!"

Draco halted and turned, paused in equal parts due to her small, firm grip on his elbow, her huge amber eyes now pleading up at his face, and the desperate way his name – _his given name_ – tumbled from her lips. They looked at each other then, he at her with a furrowed brow and the oddest look of confusion and she at him with wide eyes brimming with something that looked close to fear. He glanced to her hand on his arm and reached to pluck it from its spot in an over dramatic way of removing a distasteful object from his clothing.

"Come on, Granger. We both know that neither of us want to work together and we're not in school anymore. I have an urgent and serious matter and-"

"They'll fire me!" She interjected hurriedly.

"What?" Draco blinked down at her.

"The Ministry. If you get me reassigned from this case, they'll fire me. That's it – poof! No more career." She added as an afterthought, "Please, Malfoy – Draco...just. Let's just try this again from the top. We work on solving this problem that you've discovered, strictly business, and I'll be out of your hair and out of your life as quickly as possible. I just need you to _not_ call the Minister."

Silence stretched between them for a few seconds that seemed like ages. He eyed her carefully, his arms folded across his chest and head tilted while he examined her panicked demeanor. "Why?"

It was her turn to be confused, "Why what? What do you mean why? I just told you-"

Draco gave her an exasperated sigh and finally moved away from the fireplace to flop into the cushions of the love seat again. "Why would they do that over one little assignment?"

Hermione dreaded that he'd ask her that and she willed the gears in her head to turn faster so she could figure out a less embarrassing explanation to provide.

"Granger," he warned, watching the woman start wringing her hands together, a blush creeping its way up from her chest into her neck and cheeks.

"I-it's complicated..there was a series of unfortunate events that affected some other things that may or may not have been work related...nothing really important Malfoy.." Turning from him to pace uncomfortably, she shut her eyes and massaged one of her temples while waving her other hand about in the air as if shooing a small bug from her presence, prattling on and searching for the half-truths she wanted to reveal until she bumped into his solid mass and nearly toppled over.

Draco had risen from his seat once again and planted himself in the way of her return pacing route back in his direction. When she started from blindly walking into him, he caught her in her stumble and righted her again before folding his arms, glancing to the clock on the mantel, and then looking down on her with a quirked brow. "It's one o'clock now, so that gives you six and a half hours to tell me before you need to leave for today."

It took her a moment to realize the implication of his words. For the moment at least, it seemed he was willing to accept her as his caseworker...if she explained to him why it was she was here in the first place. _Bollocks._ Echoing his sigh from before, it was her turn to flop onto the cushions of the love seat, quickly propping her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hands. "FINE."

He straightened again and allowed a smirk to blossom on his features, quite satisfied at her dismay and the potential in finding something very intriguing – or very embarrassing – out about Ms. Granger the witchy wonder. It was just as well considering she was going to be finding out quite a few very intriguing details about himself soon because really who was he kidding? Hermione Granger, regardless of what department she found herself in, _would_ be the most accomplished agent available...unless there were a department of broom riding or some such nonsense, then probably not so much.

"Tea?"

"Yes please," came the miserable and muffled reply.


	3. Chapter 2 - The Library

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

* * *

**__****Monday, January 22, 2001 – 3:00PM**

Draco sipped his tea, they both remained silent while he processed her epic description of the events leading her to him today. They'd moved into a different room at Hermione's request to which he'd offered her a sheepish apology before he could pull it back, not even realizing that this was the first time she'd been in this very same sitting room since a few years back when...well when things had been quite a bit different there. It was just as well, the small apology certainly made them even for when she testified for his freedom.

"Quite a situation you've got there Granger," he commented idly though the way he eyed her over the top of his cup let on to something more calculating.

She picked at a little triangular pastry on its fancy, adorable, tiny, and extremely expensive looking plate. The flaky bits fluttered off the snack creating an ever growing pile of them on the dish below. "Yes, well...sometimes even _I_ can't separate my personal from my professional life you know."

"Sometimes? It sounds like it was more of an all-the-time thing considering they felt the need to put you in the kiddy corner," he smirked at the baleful look she shot him.

"Shut it," she warned, finally dropping the pastry and leaning back in her seat. Hermione leaned forward to retrieve the teapot between them and habitually refilled both of their cups. "So now you know my dirty little secret Malfoy, what's yours?"

He sputtered at the question, immediately going on the defensive. "What? What do you mean by that?"

Hermione raised a finely sculpted eyebrow, sipped her tea, then answered, "The curse. You know, the entire reason that I'm here in the first place? What did you think I meant?"

_Oh...of course that's what she was talking about..._ "Nothing," he snapped, setting down the fragile looking little cup and made to stand, readying himself to launch into his practiced explanation of the situation before he lost his nerve. "Follow me, I'll fill you in as we walk."

She followed him down the manor's long and elegantly decorated hallways, glancing curiously between her surroundings and his broad back. He was dressed today much as she'd remembered him to dress back in school – finely tailored black jacket and slacks, black turtleneck, and black leather shoes that combined were probably worth more than most of the belongings in her flat...and her rent to boot! "Where is it we're headed?"

"The library," he glanced back and couldn't help his smirk when he saw her distracted gaze snap back to him with a brightening in her eyes at the idea of the library – he could see the excitement brewing in her even though she tried to tamp down on it, probably thinking of what the Malfoy's private collection could possibly hold that she has never seen before through her exploration of the shelves at Hogwarts, the Ministry, and various shops throughout the surrounding towns.

Hermione let out a simple '_Oh._' thinking exactly that and made to listen to him as he finally began her briefing.

"This curse seems to have manifested itself at the start of this year. I'd never heard of any such thing tied to the Malfoy family line before, but our roots are old and run deep," he shrugged, turning a corner down the tiled hallway, "It seems to be tied to my birthday."

Hermione was close at his heels, not favoring getting lost in this huge house. She knew there was really nothing here that could harm her anymore – or at least she hoped there wasn't – but she'd rather stick close to her guide. "Your birthday?"

"My twenty-first to be precise."

She nodded, "June isn't it? Early.."

Draco paused, half turning to her with a quizzical look on his face, "...yes...the fifth. How did _you_ know?"

She flushed at that realizing she'd given herself away, "Ah – I just remember it was somewhere around there. From when I served as Head Girl...there were certain duties which required a modicum of memorization to certain students' information."

_'Like what?_' Draco pondered, arms folded again while he studied her and she began to fidget under his narrowed stare. Suddenly, a small grin broke out onto his face, "Liar."

"Am not!" Hermione protested immediately – she was.

A chuckle this time. "You are! You used your position as Head Girl to snoop for the boy wonder! Gathering potentially useful information on the enemy, eh Granger?" He hummed, "Mm..I bet you know all of Slytherin house's important players' information."

"Oh come off it, Malfoy. I did not and I **_do not_**." She crossed her arms, mimicking the man across from her and huffed indignantly.

"Did too, do too," he said petulantly. Before she could protest again he rattled off a short list of his old classmates and looked at her expectantly.

There was a pregnant pause during which Hermione glared daggers at him, sighed, and responded with crisp recitation nailing each one on the head with her recollection of every individual's birth date. "Happy?"

"You forgot one."

"I did not-"

"Hermione Jean Granger, Septembeeeeer...eight..no nineteenth."

Hermione's jaw loosed itself and she knew she was gaping a bit like a fish, "How did you-"

"Slytherin," he tapped his temple with a finger and made a move to continue on to the library.

"Wha...well that's wrong anyway! I'm a Gryffindor and you know that!" He'd managed to frazzle her, what? Two? Three times today already? And they haven't even gotten through the briefing yet..._ Ugh._

"But you think like one of us," he shrugged, "And you'd already admitted you weren't perfect, so no need to apologize for your unfortunate house's inherent shortcomings Granger." He led her the rest of the way to the doors of the library on the lower level of the manor and didn't have to look behind him to know the witch was fuming and probably barely able to keep herself from sputtering some snarky insult – the thought brought a delightful feeling to his belly. "We're here."

Hermione was ready to light into him for the thinly veiled compliment followed by his petty insult when they stopped. She never got that far as the modestly lit room was opened to her. Books. So. Many. Books. Her previous anger and irritation dissipated quickly and she took in the rich sight before her, her heart in her throat at the elegant beauty of it all.

While not a huge room – not by Malfoy standards anyway – every wall was full with literature. As they first entered, she noticed the intricately woven half-circle rug beneath her feet, black with gorgeous shades of silver threads making up the large 'M' in the center and the braided design of its border. The rug sat on the smooth marbled pearl floor of the room that reached wall to wall until it met with the dusky bronze baseboards that transitioned to the tasteful vertically striped walls. The stripes alternated between two shades of emerald green, only a subtle difference between the two colors, but just enough to add some depth to the room. Directly across the way on the far end of the library was a huge Gothic cathedral window. The delicate curves and points on the interior of the arched frame created a fluid floral pattern and they, as well as the frame itself, were a stunning silver that glittered in the sunlight. By the sheer amount of light flooding in through the clear glass she could tell that the placement of the library on this side of the manor was intentional and would guess that this was the side of the Malfoy ancestral home that got the most amount of light for the longest amount of time throughout the day. A beautiful glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, glittering in the light. She didn't see any fire pots or candle holders on it however so if she were to venture a guess, she'd assume that it was enchanted to hold the light gathered from the sun throughout the day for the evening hours when it became dark...something of a wizard's version of solar power.

To her left there were a set of comfortable and luxurious looking armchairs angled to face each other across an ornate square table for two tucked in the corner with a flickering flame housed in a beautiful stained glass jar, similar to the kind she would often charm into existence while she was on the run with Harry and Ron. Nearby there was some kind of filing drawer that reminded her of an old Muggle card catalog cabinet, it was made of ebony and had smartly polished silver fittings on the face of each little drawer. By the size and shape of the drawers, she surmised this probably contained pertinent periodicals, events of note and interest that would have been published in a way that didn't lend itself well to shelving.

To her right was a rectangular table, no less fancy than the square one on the other wall, this time with four simple wooden chairs set around them – two on each of the long sides facing each other. A writing desk and seat were pushed against the wall next to the double door entry way with another of those magical flames encased in glass, this time a clear one for better lighting.

The shelving was freestanding. At least a dozen or so heavy bookshelves made of that same ebony wood made up the rest of the room. In front of her were two rows of at least four bookcases deep on either side, the aisle before her that led to the huge window was covered with an emerald green runner with embroidered detailing of the same silver threads on the entry rug. Flush up against the walls to her left and her right, beyond the main sets of shelves before her, were even more bookcases – at least two each from what she could see where she stood. Each fixture had to have been at least nine feet high as they extended to meet the ceiling but were so cleverly placed to avoid the room's great chandelier. Nearly all of the individual shelves within the cases were filled with books from end to end, barely enough room to snake one's fingers in between the covers to withdraw one.

The smell was just heavenly – it _smelled_ like a library. The musty odor of aged parchment was pleasantly thick in the air and mingled with the equally welcome smell of worn leather. Hermione took in a deep breath, letting it out wistfully along with a very soft contented sound, a small smile quirking her lips up at the corners.

Draco was watching her curiously and found himself rather self satisfied at her obvious adoration of the room and its contents. The so soft noise of part yearning, part lazy pleasure that slipped past her lips during her admiration of the library made him whet his lips subconsciously. He'd been eying her all day since she'd arrived with much suspicion and a comfortable level of malice in his stealthy gazes. It wasn't until he saw her there, only a handful of steps into the room, taking in her surroundings with open wonder and appreciation at the collection of knowledge and history all in one place that he'd actually looked at _her_.

The light from the large window touched every corner of the library and lit up all the different shades in the woman's hair that he'd never noticed before. It danced across her skin easily, the lightly tanned flesh showing that she seemed to take the sun with grace, having it enhance her complexion rather than blotch it. Her sensible navy business suit was obviously fitted, although not quite as nicely tailored as his own. From his view at her side he could see the comfortable way the jacket housed her figure and smoothed across the modest curve of her breasts, tapering in closely at her petite waistline before flaring back out again at her shapely hips and rear. The suit's skirt ran just tightly enough across her thighs that it hugged her bum and legs to create a perfectly pronounced and rounded curve of ass – it was magnificent if he were being honest. The matching navy heels she wore were low enough to the ground so she didn't make a mess of herself whilst trying to walk in them but high enough that they flexed the muscles in her calves to create that extra long looking, lean expanse of leg.

Draco's eyes drew back to her face as she released another small sigh, focusing on her rather soft looking pink lips that were tilted slightly in a tiny smirk to herself as though she were enjoying a personal secret. No lipstick on those lips – of course not, Hermione Granger was too practical of an individual for that nonsense. They really were of perfect proportion to one another, her top and bottom lips. The top was slender and cute with a sharp little cupid's bow that seemed to somehow compliment her personality and the bottom was plump and oftentimes it glistened lightly with the moisture from her tongue with how she'd nervously worry it between her teeth. The thought of it caused an unwelcome stirring in his gut and he cleared his throat a bit too loudly to pull her from her moment.

Hermione's head turned sharply at the noise and he supposed she'd forgotten where she was and who she was with for a moment. Her eyes snapped open and focused on him easily though he was able to catch the glint of the golden flecks in her irises as her pupils adjusted to the sudden light and she came back to herself with a delicate blush coloring her cheeks.

"Sorry. I just—this place is magnificent, Malfoy! If I had constant access to a place like this in my home I doubt I would ever find reason enough to leave!" She made a wide gesture to indicate all the books but shook her head, fiddling with the metal lily at her collarbone and biting at the lip he'd been admiring just a few moments earlier. "Anyway..where were you? We need to get started on this case. After all, it's," she looked around again, this time searching for something specific and apparently not finding it so she looked to him again with a frown of confusion. "No clock in here?"

Draco swept his gaze across the room giving it a once over then settled it back on her and shook his head. "There used to be one but I had it removed a week or so ago. Can't concentrate with the incessant ticking." He reached into one of his pockets and lifted out an old silver pocket watch, flipped the little cover open to check the time then flipped it shut again and replaced it in its previous spot. "Quarter 'til four. C'mon, have a seat and let's get started."


	4. Chapter 3 - The Mystery

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

* * *

**__****Monday, January 22, 2001 – 5:00PM**

Draco managed to finally finish briefing Hermione on the happenings up to this point..as vaguely as possible. Ever since he acknowledged that there was something serious and wrong happening to him a week or so after it began, he'd locked himself away in the library researching. With his father being incarcerated and his mother only a flicker of her former self, he was pretty much on his own with figuring out the puzzle.

He would wake up with the sun each day and stay in the regal room, surrounding himself with family history books and journals trying to route out the problem. The changes always seemed to happen after the sun went down so at first when the edges of the sky began to darken on the other side of the room's elegant window, he would leave the library for a safer, less destructible portion of the manor where it would matter less if he changed and flew into an uncontrollable rage destroying everything that wasn't nailed down. The winter daylight hours were short and deceptive, the sun liked to set around 4 in the afternoon most days this early in the year but he'd taken to timing the change and found it happened most evenings between 8 and 9 – hence his imposed curfew for the Ministry. It was a curious thing and he hadn't yet figured exactly what triggered it for _those_ hours but he'd learned to notice the signs leading up to it and it provided him with much more time to research than he'd originally feared he would have. The only consistent thing about it all was that the beast did not exist in sunlight – regardless of when the transformation was initiated, it was always over as the sun rose over the horizon and for that he was thankful.

From his research, Draco had found a centuries old journal from a French ancestor that mentioned a tragic curse to his bloodline. There was no definitive explanation of the exact parameters of it, but from that journal and a few others in the following decades they painted a sadly romantic picture of a punishment from a lovestruck, jilted witch. The ancestor first affected by it had notes of a failed love affair with a jealous and spiteful woman. His story painted them in a frivolous and young relationship. They were like any teenaged couple and he was like many a teenage boy, letting his hormones lead him in his decisions and where he was in it for fun, she had been emotionally invested and quite obsessed. When the young man had called an end to their relationship her response was much more...visceral...than initially expected.

The witch had yelled and screamed, cried and pleaded, and eventually settled on a deeply seated curse on his name – this curse called him out for the beast that he was, ugly and driven by his baser needs and instincts. It shaped him into a horrific monster with his only hope of being restored to his human form by finding and committing to a wife by his 21st birthday – if he failed in this task he would remain there, forever a monster, forever alone, secluded in the ancient home, losing not only his humanity in form but eventually in mind as well. He'd pleaded with the witch to take him back and she had made him suffer for many days. Too obsessed with him for her own good, however, she did take him back and they were wedded that same year.

The almost too young couple had one child together soon following their wedding – a boy – and groomed him to be a fine, rich pureblood like any other noble family of the time. It wasn't until the year of his 21st birthday that his curse, one that both husband and wife thought was done and over with, manifested itself once again. Draco's ancestor was livid and threatened the witch for her treachery. What good was breaking his own spell when it didn't lie solely on him and had instead infected his very bloodline? To her credit, she'd been appropriately confused as she was certain it _had_ been broken when they'd married – he reverted to his human form after his vows after all. So what happened to affect their son in this way?

Magic is a special thing you see, very special. It is delicate but fierce, a strength but a crutch, certainly a double-edged sword as it represents both immense power and immense weakness in different individuals. Those that are able to wield it must find their balance to control it and not let it control them. It was in this important factor of magic that the witch mis-stepped. In her blinding and emotional rage towards her now husband, she'd intended one punishment and instead actually inflicted another. The magic she wove dug its tendrils deep into the wizard's very blood. The man had feared her at the time and did not love her when they married but the woman's magic, being so rooted in her obsessive love for him, desired his love in return. While their marriage commitment gave him a reprieve from his other form, the punishment lingered in the background just waiting to rear its head again for the next male heir. Her magic wouldn't be sated until his love was had...but seeing as she was the one that set him to his fate, he was quite understandably less than willing to give it to her and it was in this way that the curse persisted.

The Malfoy line never had more than one child moving forward, always only ever one son, so the horrible fate was destined for each generation's male heir. It quickly became their practice for arranging a marriage while the child was still in his adolescent years – this would ensure that the boy would never have to suffer through such a debacle again. Over the passing generations, the family was able to alter the magic through exotic potions and rituals conducted during pregnancy, never enough to remove it completely but it made the fate more bearable if it were ever to come to pass – a man during the daylight hours and a beast only ever at night, only to suffer the change the year of the heir's 21st birthday. It became the parent's responsibility to procure a proper wife in time for their son but in Draco's case...things had been a little complicated for him, what with the Dark Lord being resurrected into power and bringing upon them all the Second Wizarding War and all...

No, Draco had known nothing of the curse and the unfortunate timing and his family's own involvement in the war pushed things such as arranged marriages and such to the back burners – it's not like they really knew who would be left alive after everything came to a head anyway. He had only told Hermione as much as he felt safe with having her know. At this point she knew that the curse was very old and had summoned a great and terrible beast into the manor – hence his request for assistance from the Magical Creatures department. She knew that in order to rid the beast from the premises he needed to find a wife and marry before his birthday, which gave him about...5-ish months. When she'd asked the most predictable questions, he'd been ready for his rehearsed answers.

"Why in Merlin's name would your being married have anything to do with getting rid of this...this creature?"

A shrug, "Don't know, don't care. More interested in just getting rid of it."

"Well, can I see the beast? It may help to examine it and try to determine its origins-"

"It only shows itself late in the evening."

"Well perhaps I can stay a bit late today...just this once! You seem to have it contained well enough when it appears-"

"Far too dangerous for that."

"But you stay here every night!"

"I know how to protect myself."

"And I don't?!"

"I don't know, do you?"

"MALFOY!"

"Granger?"

Hermione huffed loudly and threw up her arms, pushing away from the rectangular table they'd been occupying. "Malfoy!" She repeated in irritation, "I am _trying_ to assist you. You owled, I came. Are you seriously trying to get me fired?"

"I laid out the rules before you even got the assignment, Granger," he stood and leaned against the table watching her continue to make soft little huffs at everything he tossed back at her. Her eyes sparkled clearly, angrily, even in the low lit library, the sun having already gone down and the chandelier sparkling in a comfortable easy level of borrowed sunlight. "Don't blame me if you can't handle it. Maybe that's why your dearest Ministry had to put you on probation, you really can't cut it!"

She let out a strangled noise of frustration, something halfway between a growl and a yell and shoved herself in his personal space with a finger jabbing into the hard expanse of his chest. "YOU are a damned git, you know that? You want help, I'm here. You're LUCKY to have me on this case you...you..._YOU! _**_AUGH!_**"

Narrowed silver eyes, glittering dangerously like molten metal, focused in on her delicate finger poking at his chest. Her skin pinked and he knew she was barely keeping her temper contained by the way her other hand squeezed itself into a tight fist, flexing to show she was itching to do something with it. Her chest heaved with her elevated heartbeat and drew her suit jacket snugly around her breasts with every breath. Those dark brown eyes were focused intently up at him with a tightly contained fury and this close he could see himself in her dilated pupils. He could _smell_ her – he smelled her anger and it was a hot and spicy thing that wrapped itself around the earlier cool floral and fresh linen scent. She smelled of hot cinnamon, sharp and powerful and sudden, assaulting his nose and settling on his tongue."Get your filthy finger away from me, Mud-"

"_Say it._" Hermione cut him off, the two words a warning that were forced from her clenched teeth and the air in the room thickened with a building tension. The hand with the finger that had been prodding him in the chest moved easily to clench one of his lapels and bring him closer to her now snarling face – it looked so foreign in that otherwise pretty demeanor. "Say it, Malfoy and see what happens. It's been years...but the war changed us all and it's lowered my threshold for your haughty bullshit. I'm on the clock, a professional, and in your home, but just _say it_ and see what I do if you're still quite so cocksure."

Too close, she was too close – that's all he could think when she grabbed his jacket. In response he latched onto the offending hand, his own hand dwarfed her tiny wrist almost comically. The other surged forward of its own accord and gripped her slender neck easily and with only a few steps forward he had her pinned against the ebony filing cabinet. He'd expected to see the witch's eyes widen in fear at his sudden physicality but was surprised to see no such thing.

Those same angry amber eyes stared directly into his own, the gaze in them hard and cold with not a tremble to be seen in the fine muscles around them. Her jaw was locked tightly in place, mouth set in a grim line of determination with no other emotion discernible from those lips alone. Her scent still carried that cinnamon smell though there was more to it now, something his mind recognized as a thing distinctly 'feral' but could think of no other description, it was not wholly unpleasant. It was then he noticed the stabbing pressure at his jugular and was able to put the pieces together. He held her left hand tight in his right and her neck with his left which allowed her right hand to be holding her wand – although where she'd been hiding that he wasn't sure. The tip pressed firmly into his neck with her wrist rotated _just so_, he could recall a vast number of decidedly lethal offensive spells that could be launched with a simple flourish and word from that position.

The longer they stood there like that, sizing each other up and curious as to how far the other would go, Draco became distracted by her fluttering pulse under the pad of his thumb. It flit against the skin like a rattled bird but he knew she was in no way frightened of him at all – no, that time was long gone. Her eerily cool gaze and scent alone was enough to confirm that. Her skin was so warm against his hands, the blood pumping beneath the surface and causing the blooming red shade to tint her exposed bits.

He knew that blood, he'd seen it spilled on the floor of his very own sitting room – and it wasn't dirty, not in the slightest. It was a deep rich red, clean as his and speeding through her veins this very second to fuel her resistance and adrenaline. The wonder of picturing it flowing freely from her neck, torn open and resembling a wicked toothless maw, forced its way into his mind at once and pulled a low inhuman growl from his throat. His eyes, having wandered to the long line of her neck while lost in his gruesome daydream, refocused sharply back to her face at the soft mewl that slipped from her.

Hermione's grip on her wand faltered when the fingers at her neck rearranged themselves in a way where they brushed across her collarbone, soft like a tender lover's caress. He didn't seem to notice when she shivered, eyes falling shut and head tilting slightly back and to the side to allow more freedom for the simple touch. His thumb at her wrist massaged small circles at her pulse point there, both his hands unconsciously stimulated her erogenous zones and did well to break her own concentration. It had been over a year since she'd really been touched, barely even hugged since her great escape from Ronald Weasely's proposal and these small and somehow intimate touches – from hands that had never even bothered to appropriately flip her off years ago! - ignited something within her.

Draco's dangerous fantasy of her throat ripped open shifted rapidly from one very base need to a much, much different one. Hermione's breath stuttered across her parted lips punctuated by another soft noise she undoubtedly tried to stifle. The weak moan made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and goosebumps prickle to life across his flesh, drawing him in to make a more thorough inspection of the heady scent that seemed to be quite strong at a point behind her ear...

Her earlier rage had bled out of her, his name barely slipped out breathy and with just enough of a lilt on the end to indicate a question, "Malfoy?"

Suddenly the image of Hermione Granger spread across the table they'd been working on only moments before sprang to life in his head. Her tamed curls freed from their clip at the back of her head to fan around her on the dark wood, miscreant strands stuck to her sweat dampened cheek or forehead. That sensible suit and its frilly shirt counterpart in all sorts of disarray with the jacket and blouse ripped open to expose her heaving and blushing bosom, perky with taut nipples that fit perfectly in his mouth, bra decimated by the need to free her perfect breasts. Her skirt hiked up high over her hips to expose a nude garter belt holding up sheer thigh high hose on her still shoe-clad feet, knickers lost to the wind in his haste. Those supple thighs would be wrapped high around his waist as he fervently pounded into her dripping wet core, hot for him and only him as he filled her repeatedly attacking her neck with his teeth but this time to leave a claiming mark at the juncture of her neck and shoulder instead of the intent to rip it open. Her wrists anchored above her head on the table by his hands she would call to him with a desperate need for more as he marked her and she accepted it eagerly. The stimulation of his intimate stroking of her silky heat and the bruising of her shoulder between his sharpened teeth too much for her to last through until she arched beautifully off the wood into the hard planes of his body, writhing against him as her inner walls clenched down around him and she screamed his name and drew him in deeper – deeper so when he spilled his seed into her womb she would irrefutably be his, bear his young, be **_his_** mate...

The hunger built low in him, the heat of her flesh against his own boiling his blood and building the desire to feel more of it pressed flush to his own. By the warm and musky sensual fragrance wafting off of her, he didn't think she'd really mind. He just wanted to wrap himself in the scent, be buried in her heat, consume her entirely – the raw animalistic need he'd felt in that moment is what finally snapped him back from the edge.

Draco jerked away, stumbling back into the table they'd been working at all afternoon leaving her to slump suddenly against the filing cabinet she was pinned to just moments before. His eyes were wide, shining silver pools in the chandelier light, lungs laboring hard to pull in shuddering breaths as though he'd just surfaced in the Black Lake. '_What the BLOODY HELL was that..'_

Hermione mirrored his expression, a tad more disheveled from his one wandering hand that found and loosed the top two buttons of her blouse of their own took her a moment but she found her head and stiffened, wand snapping back up to point at him and those hard, chocolate eyes were livid, narrowed little slits. "Where the hell do you think you get off-"

"It's time for you to leave," he interrupted her building tirade unapologetically, uncaring of the verbal beating she was sure to be leading into and much more concerned with the dull ache in his head that was becoming more and more pronounced by the moment.

"WHAT?! Listen you git, I won't just be assau—HEY!" Before she could finish reprimanding him for his all too strange behavior, Hermione was jerked from the room by his iron grip on the wrist of her wand hand. Draco tugged her along through one winding hallway then the next until they were back at the sitting room and she was being shoved towards the fireplace. "Mal—MALFOY! Stop it! What on earth is wrong with you?"

There wasn't time to make up a lie, the beast was waking much earlier than before – most likely due to his spat with the witch back in the library, he hadn't expected to be sent one of the few people that was well versed in making him lose his temper so easily. "Leave. Go!" he snarled and was sure that his teeth were becoming fanged and menacing.

Hermione didn't seem to notice as she opted to just be extremely irritated and her usual stubborn self. She crossed her arms, her cleavage much more pronounced through the still unbuttoned portion of her blouse and shot him a death glare. "No! You can't just be a right prat to me since I've arrived, argue with me, insult me, shove me around your home, do...whatever it was _that_ was back in the library, and then tell me to leave! I'm not some little one-night slag here for your amusement you fucking wanker! Now you will start behaving like a sensible wizard, Draco Malfoy, and explain yourself or Merlin help me I'll hex your bollocks off!"

Draco growled, the deeper timbre lost on her and it was his turn to invade her space. He towered over her now, all hard lines and chiseled muscle – a perfect masculine counterpart to her diminutive yet curvaceous figure. He snatched up a handful of floo powder and jerked her small form snugly to his with his other hand on her ass, pressing her hips into his.

Hermione's eyes widened for just a second at the movement but then his face was right there next to hers with their cheeks pressed together and his hot breath on her ear. She felt his tongue dart out and trace the outer shell of it, dipping inside for a quick second and making her shiver, then he'd sucked the lobe in between his teeth – they felt so sharp on that tender little bit of flesh and so._..so_ good. The moan slipped out before she could help herself and she felt his hand grip her butt cheek harder in response, grinding her hips against his own, something hard and tantalizingly warm pressing against her.

"Tomorrow," the one word was strained, gravelly. And just like that he wrenched himself away, threw the handful of powder to the fire and spoke a location, subsequently shoving her backwards and watching her startled, confused – and he guessed – even more outraged face be sucked away through the floo. It would've been funny if not for the unfortunate timing of this curse.

He hurriedly closed his location to the floo network, slumping forward and gripping the mantel. The transformation came on quickly now, black nails ripped through his normally well manicured ones, curling into nasty things that would tear apart the thickest hide. Callouses grew on his palms and pads of his fingers, darkening to leathery pads, his hands lengthening and widening proportionately to his broadening frame. A howl of pain tore from his throat, deepening in pitch with changing vocal chords and the bulking of muscle that shredded his once nicely fitted clothing. His face cracked, jaw extending forward slightly to form the muzzle that housed his now sharp and thickened teeth. Draco stumbled from where he had a death grip on the small shelf as his feet reformed, lengthening and lifting his heels from the ground forcing him forward to the balls of his feet. He fell onto all fours as the change coursed through him and that coppery coat flowed to cover his once human skin. He bellowed a monstrous sound at the completion of the change, his blood pumping angrily through his veins and with the beast's instincts now pushing to the forefront there was little else he found himself wanting to do than find the witch again and take her to rut. Her scent was all over him still, leaving traces and lingering in his now much more sensitive nose. Draco let out a frustrated snarl into the otherwise quiet room before stalking off somewhere deep within the manor.


	5. Chapter 4 - The Plan

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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**__****Monday, January 22, 2001 – ****__****9****__****:00PM**

Hermione moved another file to the ever growing stack in front of her before opening another to scan over the simple animated photograph of a beautiful young blonde witch, eyes catching the face of whoever shot the image a bit nervously then relaxing and donning a pleasant smile, head tilted ever so slightly to one side. Searching for something in the lines of text beneath the photo, she shook her head and put this one in a different pile. She opened another one, a too familiar face staring at her. A large mane of auburn curls framed the woman's face, head tilted down slightly with chocolate eyes stern and focused on the photographer, it took a moment before the features in the picture relaxed and she saw her own smile quirk back at her – just the slightest of upturns of the corner of the lips making more of a smirk than anything. Had she already made it to 'G'? She slammed the folder shut and tossed it to the far side of her desk away from the other piles.

"AUGH! Stupid GIT!" She exclaimed for what was likely the hundredth time since she arrived to her office at the Ministry.

Hermione rubbed at her face with both hands, elbows propped onto her desk as she let out several frustrated and muffled sounds. She'd long since removed her jacket, the sleeves of her frilly little shirt were rolled up to the elbows, her hair was mussed and barely hanging on in the clip at the back of her head, and her shoes were kicked off haphazardly somewhere to the side of her desk.

Draco had very unceremoniously pushed her through the green flames of the fireplace back at the manor and she'd ended up back at the Ministry. There weren't words to describe how pissed off she was at his crazy mood-swinging behavior and she'd immediately tried to go back to give him a piece of her mind only to find the destination closed off. She'd spent several minutes screaming her livid obscenities before she'd finally stomped off to her office where she'd spent the last couple of hours rifling through files of known witches in the surrounding area to try to help with his case."Tomorrow, he said...tomorrow my arse."

A blush crept onto her cheeks as she remembered the feel of his hand strongly gripping her rear and moving her hips against his so she could very plainly feel the hardness of his...of him, and she fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair. She really had no idea what happened back there. They had never liked each other in school, she may have taken a passing interest in him, a once over at one point, but however pretty a face he had, his insufferable attitude made any kind of desire for him fizzle and die in a dramatic fashion.

'_But then they weren't in school anymore, now were they?__'_ Hermione huffed at herself, '_What kind of stupidity is THAT?__'_

Hermione went back to searching through the stack of files in front of her. Initially, she'd gone to her office to blow off some steam in the confines of the familiar room instead of the open halls of the Ministry – just in case there was anyone else there working late. Eventually, she turned to what she'd hoped would distract her from thinking too much about Malfoy's hot and cold and completely confusing attitude from earlier and decided to focus on what she knew of his case. She didn't have the answers to the 'why' on everything she really wanted to know, but both of them at least knew one thing – he needed to be married, and soon.

Honestly, she was surprised that he hadn't been taken up by one of the eligible witches already, what with him being a Malfoy and all. She supposed his family's sketchy loyalties during the war had something to do with it and the normal pool of Purebloods were weary of having anything to do with them for one reason or another. That _was_ part of the reason he had been working so diligently to restore his family to the good graces of Wizarding Britain – at least that's some of what he'd announced in a formal conference release at some point – he wanted to clarify his and his family's position in the world as it was now as reformed and law abiding folk. His name had come up in The Daily Prophet more than once as a headlining article, she could pretend that she knew nothing of what he'd been up to for the past few years at various fundraisers and conferences but she'd be a liar; it's hard to shake someone you grew up with...enemy or not. But again, they weren't in school anymore and they weren't at war anymore either. Considering she was working to help him solve this family curse case, she guessed she couldn't really consider him an enemy any longer – but he was most definitely still an incorrigible twat.

Hermione worked through the rest of the stack in relative silence, only a couple more outbursts here and there when her mind would wander back to the heat of his breath on her ear and the feel of his teeth on her skin as he'd nibbled it. She shivered and shrugged off the thoughts, checking her clock on the mantel and making moves to clean up the mess of paperwork she'd created. Sitting in front of her she now had two distinct piles: the one on the left was a rather tall stack of folders she'd dubbed 'unavailable', these were witches that were married, in other sorts of partnerships, or were Muggle-born, the one on the right – a much smaller pile – were the profiles of witches that were noted as single and were Purebloods or Half-bloods. She thought to herself that the 'available' pile would be much larger if she could've included some of the single Muggle-born witches but she knew her client better than that and he'd probably sooner swallow his own tongue than be married to one, the Half-bloods were a stretch as it was!

She snorted to herself thinking about his physical reaction to her earlier, "Good enough for your prick but not good enough for your name..._stupid git_." That makes one hundred and five.

Ready to be done for the night, Hermione took the large stack of "unavailables" back to the records hall, leaving them at a secured station for the clerks to file back in place tomorrow. She felt slightly guilty about it...sure she'd done the work of getting them down but it was almost midnight and she would really like a few solid hours of sleep before having to deal with Draco Malfoy yet again, especially since she had that silly curfew of his to hold herself to – which he may or may not decide to stick to seeing as how he kicked her out early today. No, she needed to be up and at his manor bright and early so would desperately need all the sleep she could muster.

Tromping tiredly back into her office, she gathered the remaining 'available' pile to put in her briefcase, letting out a loud groan when she spotted her file still on the corner of her desk. "Bollocks," she stood there eying it and debating on if she wanted to go all the way back down to records to return it but when her stupid little clock started chiming 12 o'clock she quickly decided against it. Shoving the file into her briefcase with the others, she made a mental note to drop it off in the morning before she flooed to Malfoy Manor. That all decided, she snatched her jacket back up and swiftly made her way to the Atrium to get home.

**__****Tuesday, January 23, 2001 – 10:00AM**

"Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!" Hermione rolled off her bed, stumbling and almost taking a header into her nightstand. She was late, very late. She'd made it home shortly after midnight but it seemed the stress of the day had gotten to her and she'd slept right through her alarm. This was just peachy – not only was she late to work, she was late to work for Malfoy and she was expected there no later than 8 in the morning!

Hermione trundled about her small bedroom, rifling through the clothes hanging in her closet and with a growl of irritation she tore a simple fitted blackskirt from a hanger along with a pale blue and white striped button down and sleek black vest. Stumbling about, pulling on clothes while trying to brush her teeth and make sense of her hair, she was finally ready to go. She grabbed up her briefcase and hurried to floo to the Ministry, intending to just immediately cross the Atrium to the departures side since her flat wasn't cleared to go directly to the manor.


	6. Chapter 5 - The Challenge

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N: **We're nearing the end of my pre-written chapters now. Only a couple more and then everything will be being written freshly each week. Thankfully, most of everything is plotted out so it should, in theory, be posted with some regularity but expect updates to slow down to that once per week goal here very shortly. Thank you again for your continued interest! -Slik

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**__****Tuesday, January 23, 2001 – 10:****__****45****__****AM**

Draco was flipping through the pages of an old journal in irritation, looking intently for something that mentioned triggers to the cursed transformation. He was sure that yesterday's early evening was because of his emotions getting the best of him but it would be nice to have a little confirmation. So far, all he'd found were mentions of a kind of 'carry-over' of senses as the days went on. Apparently, the more changes he went through, the more his senses would retain several traits of the beast's, making it more and more difficult as time went on to achieve what needed to happen in order to halt them.

Described in the journal was evidence of a heightening of things like smell, hearing, and strength, and a gradual decreasing of reasoning capabilities while human. He supposed it made sense – it would be much easier to be stuck in that form if the magic refused to release these bits and pieces of it leading up to the deadline making it a much harder thing to fight and be rid of. The boons weren't what concerned him as much as the encumbrances. He'd found that much of his higher brain functions were still present when the beast had taken over his body, even so much as being able to speak but shaping that fanged maw to create words and sentences was sometimes trying. His thoughts were his own, he remembered most of the nights normally, but more primal needs were oftentimes much more pressing and persuasive than anything else. Last night, for example, he barely restrained himself from sniffing out a certain snarky witch to fuck her within an inch of her sanity. Instead he managed to just destroy one of the lesser needed rooms of the manor and all its occupying furniture in a fair compromise.

Draco suppressed a shudder remembering the moan she'd let fall from her when he had her in this very room, in front of that very fireplace. It was throaty and uncontrolled and reverberated across his skin in a lightning path straight to his groin making him ready, oh-so-ready, to take her there. She'd been ready too – he could smell her. Her arousal hot and thick in the air between them last night, calling to him in every way her body could. The scent had settled on his tongue, in his nose, in his head, he remembered it so clearly that even now it had him shifting in his seat on the cushions just wanting to wrap himself back in it, in her. He slammed the journal shut with a soft growl of annoyance and tossed it onto the coffee table before him, glaring at the fireplace that still had yet to deliver his caseworker to him.

Mildly wondering if he remembered to reopen the floo again this morning he thought about getting up to check on it when it flared to life, the witch in question stepping through the flames with a tense look on her face and a modest black leather case in her left hand. Her eyes darted around the room hurriedly and found him quickly at his perch on the couch, flickering between worry, relief, anger, embarrassment, then back to worry.

"Malfoy." Cordial and to the point.

"Granger," he replied easily before adding, "You're late."

"I know, I know. I'm...sorry. I overslept, I was up late last night at the Ministry working on your case." Hermione made her way to the couch choosing to sit as far away from him as possible and choosing to completely avoid talking about what happened between them for as long as possible. Never happened.

Draco eyed her warily, "What could you possibly have been doing with it that kept you up so late?"

He supposed there really were any number of things she could have looked into but he didn't think he'd given her nearly enough information or they'd gone through enough of the available texts in the library for her to have any kind of game plan so soon. No sooner than the words left his mouth and that thought ran through his head did he admonish himself – this was Hermione Granger, there was a reason she was assigned to this at his request of the best available, of _course_ she would've thought of some kind of plan already.

She glanced sideways at him with an equally reproachful look. "Well seeing as you declined several other avenues of investigation very early on during our...meeting," she flushed, "I decided to work on the only thing that we really DO know at this point. You need to be married. Soon." Hermione set her briefcase onto the table before them and flipped open the latches to retrieve the stack of files and set them in the spot in front of him, motioning for him to look.

At her insistence, Draco plucked the top file from the stack and flipped it open, revealing the softly smiling face of a pleasant looking blonde witch. He arched an eyebrow at the witch beside him but turned back to the page with the photo and read through the simple profile listed beneath it. Blinking, he closed it and set it back down, reclining on the couch with both arms spread across the back of it, quietly enjoying the way she fidgeted at the hand now near her back and she tried to discreetly scoot to the edge of the cushion she occupied.

"So...you want me to...marry one of these?" He drawled, looking to her face for confirmation.

Hermione shrugged and nodded, "More or less. I pulled the files of all the known witches of the area last night and went through them one by one. I've already filtered out the ones that weren't single as well as the Muggle-borns, so you don't have to worry about _that_." She said the last word stiffly, remembering what started their spat last night before it'd taken a heated turn down another path.

He flinched when she spoke, he'd been working very hard since his trial to help his family be restored in the respect of his fellow wizards and witches and unfortunately, it seemed the old ways were the way of the past. Not that he'd ever truly been 100% for the eradication of anyone with any Muggle ties - Muggles, Muggle-born, Half-bloods – despite the prejudiced venom he spat all through their years in school, but he was a traditionalist in some things. His work on the reformation of things led to many forced meetings about the integration of the magical men and women who didn't have as clean of a lineage as he and he'd found himself decidedly more open to the idea. No, he wouldn't be going of his own accord to any activist meetings or rally's without there being some great benefit to his family name, but it was more than he could say for himself from ten years ago.

"I hate to make things more difficult, but I'm not really one for arranged marriage."

Only part of the statement was true. He did so enjoy making things difficult most times...but he did not want to be slotted to marry some witch just because she was free to do so. There was a reason he was still single at this point, even after the Malfoys fell from good favor there were still plenty of women that wanted him either for his looks or his money, or both. He spent all of his life up to his 18th year doing things that his parents required of him, proper, the Pureblood way, and where did that get him? Slave to a crazy Half-blooded snake-man-wizard-thing bent on destroying or enslaving the lesser population and a hideous mark on his left arm that would forever mark him for the decisions he made – or had made for him – not to mention shunned by the newer, less hindered by traditionalist ways, train of thought and the people that supported it. He would've preferred to marry a nice Pureblooded witch over a Mudbl-Muggle-born, undoubtedly, but he would love them and build his family in a way that wouldn't cause his son near as much heartache as he was subjected to regardless. He would be a model father, not the excuse for one that his was.

Hermione full on looked at him then, studying his face but finding it the calculated mask he'd become accustomed to wearing – such a contrast to the open emotions she knew always flew across her face giving everything away. "Fine then, look through them and narrow down some candidates and we will set up some dates-"

"Matchmaking Granger? Really now, is that what I'm paying you for?" He smirked sardonically, convincingly enough, he knew this from the expression of rising indignation on her face. It was a very good idea really, one he should have thought of himself, but he rather enjoyed testing her patience – kept things interesting.

"I don't see you having come up with any better ideas!" She began but her growing tirade was clipped short by a loud, rumbling growl from her stomach. Hermione blushed immediately, a hand covering her belly in embarrassed horror, the redness on her cheeks made worse by his sudden laughter. She glowered at his mirth filled face.

"Put the death glare away Granger," his laughter died down into chuckles and he scooped up the pile in front of him, nodding his head in the direction of the little room they'd had tea in yesterday. "Come on then, we'll have lunch while I look through these and you can fulfill your destiny as the great Draco Malfoy's wing man."

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione closed her briefcase and latched it shut once again, refraining from further arguing because she was famished, not having eaten anything since they had tea...so almost 24 hours ago; as if listening in, her stomach gurgled its protest, another round of laughter erupting from the man ahead of her.

Draco had led her to the modestly sized tea room they'd eaten in previously and had one of the house elves fetch them some tea and sandwiches, complete with the added adorableness of having them cut into little points with the crusts removed. She tried to contain her enthusiasm and be proper about it but at the sight of them and the smell of the fresh salmon and citrusy bite of lemon her mouth watered and stomach let out another resounding gurgle.

Draco smirked at the color to her cheeks but contained his laughter this time. "Help yourself," he said almost sarcastically motioning to the meal between them and picked up one of the little sandwiches himself before grabbing up the file he'd glanced at before. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed and glanced over at Hermione who was visibly trying to slow the pace at which she devoured the tiny finger sandwiches. "So how exactly do you want me to pick then?"

She began to speak, shook her head and chewed first, dainty fingers pressed over her lips as she barely remembered her manners in her hunger. She swallowed her bits of sandwich down with a sip of tea, "Look through them. Sort them if you prefer. Each 'folio has the witch's name, photograph, and general statistics including age and a brief overview of their familial ties – as I figured that would probably be of some concern to you. I've done my best to pull only candidates that seemed a plausible match for you based on Pureblood customs, i.e. taking into account their family's monetary resources and station within the wizarding community. I may have missed some things, however, so you'll have to look over them to narrow the selection further. Once you have a group you'd like to start with, I will get with the appropriate department at the Ministry to get a bit more up to date information and we'll arrange a date for you with each witch. If necessary, we can conduct the dates in tiers, each would have a first date with you and then anyone you want to eliminate from the pool will be excluded from the second dates and so on and so forth."

To her credit, she explained all of this without a hint of disdain in her tone as though it were a purely academic exercise. Hell – Draco observed – to her it probably was. They enjoyed their lunch in relative silence, only the occasional offer from one or the other to refill their respective cups with more tea – the whole thing was decidedly civil and proper, Granger had surprisingly good manners for someone of her background.

"Merlin woman, you make it all sound like it's so simple for me to find love in a stack of papers! Not everyone can be as enthused by text as yourself." He looked at her critically across the table, placing the folder with the blonde witch's profile in front of him to his left.

Hermione gave him a sour look but contained what she really wanted to say before it got out, "There is _nothing_ wrong with enjoying books, Malfoy. With a library like the one you've got here I would think you enjoy a little bit of text yourself...but I digress." She paused pointedly to take another bite, chew, and swallow of her sandwich, this being her second one. "Besides, you never said you were looking for love, I assumed you were looking for a solution to your problem. Perhaps the next census we conduct should include things like 'do you like holding hands and taking long romantic walks on the beach?'" She snarked with a heavy dose of sarcasm, taking a sip of tea this time.

"Do you?" He asked casually over the top of another folder smirking, closing this one and placing it in front of him to the right of the blonde's folder.

She choked, blotting her lips with a napkin and quirking an eyebrow at him, "Pardon?"

"Do you like holding hands and taking romantic walks on the beach?" Draco smirked as he added another folder to the pile on his left. "Come on now, how am I supposed to add these qualities to your file if you don't answer the questions?"

"W-what are you talking about? I'm not on the list, Malfoy, don't be silly." She blanched – wait, she'd removed herself from the eligible candidates, didn't she? Yes..she was sure she did, but oh- **_Shit._**

"Oh really?" He drawled and plucked the folder in front of him back up and flipped it around to show her own smirking face, hair untamed and eyes focused seriously on the camera. Flipping it back to him he recited the words printed on the page, "Hermione Jean Granger, date of birth September 19, 1979. Height 5 feet 5 inches, hair brown, eyes brown. Blood status Muggle-born, marital status _single_. So then, do you or don't you?" His grin was devilish, enjoying the way her skin paled more and more after each statistic read.

Hermione stuttered, "Wha-give that here!" She lunged across the table but Draco simply moved the folder away, holding it behind him in an outstretched hand. She growled, "Give. That. To. Me! As you so plainly just read, blood status is _Muggle-born_, I do NOT fit into your requirements for a wife so give it here!" Another grab and a miss. "Malfoy!"

"Granger!" He mocked and his grin grew into a lascivious smile to incite her further as she gave him an interesting view down her blouse from all her reaching. "They're simple questions, love, it won't kill you to answer them. We want to be fair with our evaluations do we not?"

She followed his gaze to her slightly open shirt and let out another growl, quickly pulling herself back upright and buttoning the top button of her blouse. Hermione took her most comfortable stance, hands on her hips and a scowl directed at the blonde across the table, "You _can't_ be serious."

He put on the most studious face, file open again in his hand, and simply quirked a pale eyebrow expectantly.

She rolled her eyes and stomped her way around the table, stopping next to him with a hand held out for her file, "Yes."

"To which?" He moved it away from her again when she reached out.

"Both," she grit out her answer between clenched teeth, "My **file**, Malfoy." Finally, he relented and placed the manila folder in her hand, watching as she stomped back to her briefcase, snapped the latches open, placed the folder inside, and closed the case back up.

"Romantic streak to you then?"

Hermione shot him the evilest of sidelong glares, "Not that it's _any_ of your business, but I prefer to keep my romantic life private and intimate. There is absolutely no need to parade around your status like peacocks for others' attention."She folded her arms stubbornly.

This caused him to snort, "Well I suppose if you were attached to someone like the Weasel you wouldn't really want to broadcast it. It's a good thing you managed to slough him off."

"Draco Malfoy!" She scolded, "Does your arrogance truly know NO boundaries?! Just because Ronald and I are no longer together-"

"Or on speaking terms."

"-it does NOT mean that you can just go about insulting him all willy-nilly!" She waved her hands about at the last bit to illustrate.

Draco watched her animated movements, wondering to himself how he could have possibly missed this side of the woman in front of him when they were in school. It was just too amusing to not continue prodding her sore points! "You're hardly friends now then, am I right? Then it really shouldn't matter."

Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly at the audacity of the plainly delivered comment. "Wh-who do you think you are?! UGH! You are such an insufferable little—AUGH!" She barely stopped herself from calling him anything worse and turned on her heel marching down the hallway.

Tilting his head curiously, he called out to her retreating back, "Where are you going?"

"The loo!"

He watched her turn down the hall to the right and yelled out again, "It's the other way."

"Thank. You." She snarled and could hear him chuckling when he saw her briefly appear again at the end of the hall and head down the other side.

Draco was still chuckling when he heard the bathroom door slam shut. He shook his head and went back to reclining in his chair, not really feeling like sorting through the rest of the eligible women in the stack of paperwork in front of him. Several moments went by and she still hadn't come back yet, though his enhanced hearing could pick up the sound of water running and he thought he heard even her grumbling this far glanced over to her closed briefcase and back down the hall. Mulling over it only a few seconds longer, he reached over to the briefcase and flipped it open, retrieving her file once again.

Mumbling to himself, Draco flipped past the first page of statistics to pertinent academic and career information, "Miss Granger was the top of her graduating class with a long history of academic fervor. Despite her obvious disadvantage of being a Muggle-born with no previous exposure to the magical world she met and far surpassed the majority of the students of her age, dwarfing even several of her fellow graduating Ravenclaw classmates' scores by leaps and bounds. Blah..blah blah...S.P.E.W...blah blah.."

Draco scanned over her full page of praise by the reviewer, whoever they were practically fawned over her 'superior intelligence', he didn't need to read all of that...hell he lived most of it, much to his chagrin. Before the complications of Voldemort coming back, there were no shortage of summers when he would return home from school to an earful – amongst other punishments – about his academic achievements not being up to snuff. To be beaten by a Mudblood in nearly all of his courses...no, father hadn't cared much for that at all.

His eyebrows reached his hairline when he perused the magical aptitude test scores that were attached to the long winded praise page, taking in her scores from her O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams with a slow whistle. "Tch...go fucking figure. The woman is a bloody machine..."

Speaking of, he heard the door down the hall open and shut loudly – she must finally have calmed down and deemed herself ready for more of his prodding. He glanced down the hall and back to the table quickly, taking the next file off the stack he made quick work of switching the contents between the two folders. Taking another peek at the insides to make sure they were switched properly, he glanced down again to Hermione's smirking face in picture form housed in the file for Astoria Greengrass. Plopping it on the pile directly in front of him, he put the other folder back in her briefcase and returned it to its closed position with just enough time to spare to get relaxed looking again in his chair and send a disinterested look her way.

Hermione eyed him immediately upon returning to the room clearly suspicious of his overly relaxed posture. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to get done _powdering your nose_ of course." He flashed her one of his signature smirks, all arrogance and sarcasm and he saw her bite the inside of her cheek and purse her lips in growing frustration.

"You haven't made any more progress since I left?" She asked incredulously and sure enough when she looked at the spots in front of him she saw only one additional file in front of him than when she left. Her left eye ticked, nostrils flared and lips parted only enough to blow out an irritated breath. She was sure he could hear her counting to ten in her head, she was trying SO hard to be professional in light of his pugnacious behavior. "Well...Malfoy...allow me to help you with your sorting. Then perhaps we can move on to the next phase, hmm?"

Draco brightened at her condescending tone and simply flashed her a huge enigmatic smile, pretending that the sentiment was completely lost on him. Pulling out the chair next to him and patting the cushion he split the stack of 'availables' and placed some in front of her implied seat. "I'd appreciate the help Granger, now go on and separate them: blondes, brunettes, and redheads," he pointed to the two piles in front of him already and the empty space to the right of where he'd placed her file secretly tucked away in Astoria's.

Hermione's face turned and her lip curled in outrage and disgust, "THAT's how you're dividing them?!" At Malfoy's half-attentive 'mmhmm' she took in and released another deep breath and sat heavily in the chair he'd pulled out flipping open the first file briefly then moving to place it in the far left pile. "Such a _pig_..." she grumbled, daggers glaring down at her work. '_Remember your job Hermione...just get this done and you can be out of this place and out of this nonsense position at the Ministry in no time...'_


	7. Chapter 6 - The Pain

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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**__****Tuesday****__****, January 2****__****3****__****, 2001 – ****__****4****__****:00****__****P****__****M**

If anyone had ever told her that she and the boy that tormented her throughout her entire stint at Hogwarts would be sitting across from one another, having tea and pastries while they created a more sensible list of women he would like a first date with – her essentially playing matchmaker for the Slytherin that could very well have whatever woman he wanted – she would've hexed them within an inch of their lives for being such a dreadful and venomous liar. But there they were. They'd finished sorting out the witches according to – ahem – his hair color preference, the task having taken a much longer time than really necessary due to the bickering between the two. She called him callous and he called her a prude and things degenerated from there all the way past noon so here they _still _were.

Hermione had slid slightly away from the table with a spiral bound notebook propped easily on her crossed knee, a simple self-inking quill in her right hand. "Alright Malfoy, let's try and have this finished by the time I leave today, shall we? If we can produce a proper list of who you want to meet with then I can spend tomorrow gathering more information and have your first set of dates set up for you by this weekend. I figured that we'll create a static list of your personal preferences and further narrow the selection and then you will be able to put concerted effort into courting one of these witches," she gestured to the three stacks of folders in front of him.

Draco was slouched in his seat at the table, head lolled back against the backrest and he let out a derisive snort before straightening and shooting her a practiced sneer, "I'm beginning to see why you're single, Granger."

She bristled but was getting better at not immediately lashing out at him...though it being still early yet she knew she was in for a long day. "I'm simply trying to streamline this process for you. It's not my fault you haven't been able to find a woman on your own yet at twenty years old and now you need help getting a wife!" _Oops._ Well...she thought she was getting better at not lashing out at him anyway.

His grey eyes sparked to narrowed molten silver slivers and the sneer grew. "Fine then. Pros: long legs, nice arse, pouty lips, soft skin," he ticked off each trait with the fingers of one hand watching her grow more and more outraged, "Oh and huge ti-"

"MALFOY THAT'S ENOUGH!" She was on her feet in a second, palms slammed into the table the notepad and quill completely forgotten. "Why do you insist on being _**SO DIFFICULT?!**_"

"Sorry Granger," he wasn't – his tone and glare said as much, "I just find your bright idea to be insulting. I'm not some prized pig to sell off to the highest bidder – as I said before if I'd wanted an arranged marriage, my parents could very well have accomplished that!"

What? Wasn't he just for this idea earlier? What in the bloody blazes of hell was wrong with this man?! He was hot and cold, on and off – she couldn't contain her temper at the stupidity of it all. "Well your parents aren't _here_ now are they? Your father is off in a cell in Azkaban to rot for the rest of his miserable life and your moth-"

"DON'T talk about my mother," he was on his feet now, eyes burning at her across the table.

Hermione's jaw clamped shut, her anger draining out of her quickly at the realization of what she was about to say about Narcissa. She never really knew the woman very well but it was no secret about her failing health and recent admittance to St. Mungo's ward for end of life care, the Prophet saw to that. Draco was clearly enraged, a fine tremble shaking his arms and shoulders, fists clenched with a sudden burst of emotion that it seemed he wasn't sure what to do with. His anger didn't scare her but the hurt she saw glossing behind it made her stomach lurch in the most of unpleasant of ways.

She shook her head, eyes closed, one hand to rub at her temple, rubbing away the unwelcome thoughts of her own parents squirming their way into her head, "I'm sorry...Malfoy, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." Hermione looked up at him through her eyelashes and could see the fine twitch in his jaw as he remained silent, evidently working to steady his breathing against something else he wanted to say. "You're right. This is the only thing that I could come up with so far...but if it bothers you that much, I'll think of another way. Let me just get my things together and I'll go. I can report back to you next week with something else to try..we still have time." She bent to pick up the pad of paper and quill that fell earlier to place them back on the table and was startled upright at the stack of papers that were thrown in front of her.

"None of these," he nodded towards the stack, face still tight with rage but it had calmed somewhat at least.

Hermione blinked a few times and flipped open the first file to see a pale faced, red haired witch smiling softly. _'The readheads..'_ She let out a soft chuckle and along with it a little bit of the built up tension, "Right. Wouldn't want to chance one of the Weasley's line making their way into your family, never know where that red hair is coming from. I can't blame you I suppose, they can be a little..._intense_." She spared him a careful smile and moved the folders into her briefcase to have refiled at the Ministry, chancing meeting his eyes again. "That'd be almost as blasphemous as marrying one of mine, eh Malfoy?" It came out a bit more forlorn than she'd intended even with the smirk she offered.

It took Draco a moment to realize she'd made the quip at her blood status and found that surprisingly it didn't make him feel better at all to hear the lightly dejected tone coming from her. He nodded anyway, awkwardly, "Right."

Clearing her throat and smoothing the lines of her skirt from where she stood, Hermione opted for the easiest course of action and what they'd been doing so far about their almost intimacy of their first afternoon together and all the heated exchanges thus far: pretending that it never happened and soldiering on without saying a word. "Excuse me just a moment, just going to..run to the loo and then we can continue if that's alright with you?" At his nod, she walked swiftly to the bathroom, swallowing around the growing lump in her throat and her breath accelerating little by little the further she disappeared from his sight.

Draco watched her go, a little frown tugging downwards on the corners of his mouth at the sudden harried look on her face. The door of the bathroom shut and he grunted and shook his head – why should he be concerned about whatever is going on in that bushy haired bird brain of hers anyway? Shaking his head again, he reached across the table to snatch up the pad of paper and quill to see it divided into a left and right side. In her perfect cursive each column was labeled 'Pros' and 'Cons' respectively. He took another quick glance at the hall she'd retreated down and thoughtfully took to filling out each column appropriately.

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

Hermione looked at her haggard expression in the mirror, dipping her cupped hands under the running faucet water and splashing it on her pasty complexion. '_Come on, come on, come on...it's okay, it's okay. Three years ago, it's over..'_ She let out a shuddering breath and could feel the sting behind her eyes building despite her well practiced mantra rolling through her mind over and over and over..

She shouldn't have been so insensitive, complete and utter asshole or not, Draco Malfoy didn't deserve what she'd almost said about his mother. She had absolutely no right considering what she'd done to her own parents. The memory charm was simple enough, it had all been an act to protect them, keep them safe...and it really did work well enough until she went to reverse the spell so they could be a happy family once again.

Memories are tricky things, she found, things that shouldn't be tampered with and if necessary should be done with a great deal of caution and care. The gravity of the risks of messing with someone's mind were made all too real when she saw that familiar light return to their eyes only to see it be snuffed out almost as quickly as it came. It was much like removing an item from a blister pack, she thought sardonically; once you removed what was so tightly nestled in the packaging that was formed around it, it just never went back in quite the same. By the time her parents were received at the Muggle hospital it was far too late and all she could hope was that they knew her again and didn't hate her terribly for what she'd done. Merlin, she just hoped they knew her one last time...

A strangled cry tore from her throat and she fought to clamp her lips shut again to stifle it lest Malfoy catch on that she was having a bloody breakdown in his hall bathroom. "It's okay..it's okay...it's okay.." she resumed the mantra in a soft whisper, her words more and more distorted as another sob shook her shoulders and she buried her face in her hands with a soft wail. The memory of her father's eyes, full of his sparking personality, recognition, and _love_ just for those few cherished seconds before something faded behind them, now all glassy and dull, and they were lost to her forever – it was just too much. Trembling terribly, Hermione crumpled to the cold tile floor, sobbing muffled cries into her palms all the while the steady stream of water running from the elegant faucet.


	8. Chapter 7 - The Truth

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** Two more chapters after this one and all the writing will be fresh each week. Please enjoy another piece of the puzzle faithful viewers and certainly review if you feel so inclined. Friendly reminder, we are rated M for mature!

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**__****Tuesday****__****, January 2****__****3****__****, 2001 – ****__****5****__****:****__****30****__****P****__****M**

The blonde stared at the little pad of paper intently, flitting the feathery tip of the quill back and forth across his lips in thought. So intent on filling in the columns on the sheet was he, Draco hadn't even realized how long she'd been gone until Hermione's heels echoed in the hall, the clicking sound growing louder upon her return to the tea room. His response was automatic.

"Geez Granger, took you long enough," he had no idea how long she was actually gone, "I'm done with the list." He glanced at her as she seated herself again, frowning as he took in her reddened eyes and the unmistakable traces of moisture still hanging onto her delicate eyelashes. "What happened?"

She shook her head and smiled a smile that was too forced having to clear her throat before she responded and even then her voice wavering just a tick before it leveled out again. "Nothing Malfoy. Let me see what you have," she said dismissively though not harshly and reached across the table, motioning for him to hand her the paper.

Draco eyed her lightly trembling arm, not fooled at all, especially by the thickness in her voice, but he handed her the pad anyway. "I've filled out what I could think of but I don't think you'll be able to find most of this on their papers.."

Hermione scanned across the paper, going down the list and smiling lightly at some of the list items. '_Pros: Intelligent, witty, motivated, brunette, short, big tits,' _ she chuckled despite herself and read on, '_Cons: Talks too much, bossy, too submissive, bad manners, small tits._' She laughed then at the inclusion of breast size preference on his list at all, much less on both sides of it.

"I agree, I don't think we'll be able to narrow the list down by their '_tits_' based on the information we have," she gave him a _look_ but didn't really have the fire left in her to argue for the day after her thorough cry on his bathroom floor.

Draco tilted his head, having expected a different reaction – no he was almost banking on it – time to try a different tactic, she was the most entertaining when she was all fired up after all. "Perhaps with a few more pictures, but I'll need to get a gauge on them."

"Gauge?" She gave him an incredulous look.

"Yeah," he nodded, stood and cupped his hands in front of his chest making a slight groping motion, "I'd say 'big tits' would be a handful and a half, small being less than a handful."

Hermione blinked, folded her arms and looked him up and down. She took in his 'casual' dress today, simple grey slacks that reminded her of his eyes and a comfortable looking black button down with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He made quite a handsome picture save for the almost vulgar way he groped at invisible breasts in front of his chest, an extremely serious look on his pale face.

"Malfoy...you can't go fondling your potential wives before your first date in order to eliminate the ones with smaller bosoms."

Draco looked appalled at the insinuation, "Of course not Granger! What do you think I am, some kind of barbarian?" A wicked glint appeared in his eye but save for that, his face was a schooled mask.

"Then who..?"

"You of course!"

A pause. "Pardon?"

"You! C'mon, as Slughorn used to say, it's purely academic. All I need to do is cup them and I can compare your breasts – in pictures of course – to the other witches'! That way if I put, say, you and Pans' pictures side by side, I would know in relation to yours if she would be considered 'big' or 'small' or-"

"Or just right like a spot of porridge? Also Pansy is not in the stack." Hermione interjected snarkily but he just shrugged.

She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her and she was in no mood for it today; she could just feel it. After her mini-breakdown in the lavatory she was not inclined to give him the satisfaction of making her feel self-conscious or upset by him. He stood there, still groping at invisible breasts with an extremely satisfied smirk plastered to his git face as though he were anticipating her next move. Well, she'd show him then, wouldn't she?

"Alright then, Malfoy," she said simply, evenly without a hint of anger in her tone. Hermione nodded and moved to come around the table, hands moving to the top button of her blouse.

"Come on Granger! It'll only take two seconds- wait..what did you say?" His smirk quickly vanished into a look of utter confusion trying to understand what just came from the Princess of Gryffindor.

"I said _alright_, Malfoy." She spoke again a bit patronizingly as though she were speaking to a daft child. Hermione came to a stop only a couple scant feet in front of him, hands deftly working to loosen the buttons holding the material of her shirt closed and noting how tall he'd become over the years.

It was at this point that he paled, having not honestly expected her to call his bluff. Was she seriously...

_Pop...pop...pop.._

The soft sounds of the fabric relaxing and releasing from their previously anchored spot around her chest was louder than everything else in the room and he swallowed audibly. Draco watched, struck silent by the slow reveal of her smooth and mostly unblemished flesh – the long line of her neck sloped down to a strong collarbone where the smooth skin stretched over the swell of her breasts...breasts he slowly learned were covered by a modestly lacy nude bra, tiny little scallops kissed the so soft skin of each mound where the edge of the bra cup was revealed from behind the pale shirt. His fingers twitched with the sudden urge to run them over each delightfully round tit to see just how soft they were, to dip them into each cup to find pert little nipples that he could roll and pinch between them to make her make more of those sweet, sweet sounds she'd made yesterday evening.

A lick of the lips. "Granger.." It came out breathy though he was sure he meant it as some kind of warning.

Unmoved, Hermione placed her hands on her hips, further pulling her blouse open and providing him with an easy view of her chest, the little black vest still buttoned below her bust creating an excellent shelf effect. Her heartbeat quickened, this is the second time he'll have gotten such a view and she was quickly deciding maybe egging him on was not the best of ideas. However, a Gryffindor is stubborn and courageous right? Maybe a little foolhardy at times.. – she stubbornly and courageously pressed on.

"Come on then, we haven't got all day." Before she could change her mind Hermione grabbed his wrists and moved his hands to solidly rest on her chest, one hand for each breast. If she could have taken a picture of the shock on his face in that moment, she would've and then framed it to sit on her desk at the Ministry to lighten her spirits whenever she looked at it.

Draco's mouth was dry and apparently had dropped open at the suddenness of the movement – one second his hands were here, the next they were...**_there_**. Hermione's breasts filled his palms from the tips of his fingers to the heels of his hands, not overflowing but nor were they dwarfed by his hands. _Bloody hell..they _**_were_**_ just right._ Though mostly covered by the satiny fabric of her bra, the skin he could feel was as soft and supple and as velvety as it looked. The way the flesh curved and swelled into each perfectly proportioned breast was mesmerizing and each one had a good heft to it despite not being some of the largest he'd ever set his eyes – or hands – on. His tongue darted out to wet his lips again, eyes focused so intensely on the way they felt, he almost forgot she was there until she let out a startled noise at his experimental squeeze.

Her skin had flushed, a shade she was sure he was used to seeing by now be it from embarrassment or anger, and she cleared her throat as though to hide the soft mewl at feeling his hot hands on her; it had grown so quiet in the room that she was positive he couldn't have missed it. Suddenly horrified at the idea that he would find her chest inadequate, she jutted her chin out and forced as stoic a look as possible.

"Well? What's the weigh-in then?" she said sarcastically. To her surprise, Malfoy's eyes rolled up and what she saw there was not mockery. Not in the slightest. His gaze was dark with something incredibly dangerous bringing out the silver that always came out when his emotions started to run high. She watched his tongue slide across his lower lip yet again and followed it with her eyes, entranced all the way until it disappeared back into his mouth leaving her to look to his gaze again.

He did well to control an ever growing impulse that seemed to originate from his groin and hard-lined itself to his brain telling him to fuck her right there. Draco gave her breasts another little experimental squeeze, earning him a gasp that made him harden considerably. He dragged the insult up into his throat, ready to say something that would put them back on familiar and comfortable territory, but it wouldn't come out. He could feel her nipples pebble beneath his palms and swept his thumbs across them a few times, one of his hands sliding down her side to cup her bum and yank her close to him, her hands trapped between them in nearly the exact same way they stood the previous evening.

Draco's lips came down to her ear, his voice a low rumble that caused her to shiver, "Bloody perfect.."

Hermione tilted her head to the side and allowed him to make his way to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Her mind was screaming at her for everything she was doing! It was so unlike her to ever go along with something like this in the first place that would even lead them here but it just got so trying sometimes it drove her looney! It was like being back in school all over again, always fighting and arguing about something, slinging insults, getting hot under the collar at each other and...okay well so perhaps the arguing with Malfoy had always excited her a little.

Most of the time Harry had been too busy being depressed about the concept of the world on his shoulders and Ronald was...Ron. There was seldom a stimulating conversation and when there was it was always a surprise on one or all of their parts. No, Malfoy always had something smart to say – never mind that it was commonly derogatory but he was often finding new and inventive ways to be insulting and paid a suspiciously keen interest in her day to day habits in class or in the library to be able to hit her exactly where it got under her skin the most. Now that they were out of school this kind of thing wasn't really off the table..except for the fact that she was his fucking **caseworker**.

The back of her legs hit the small table they'd been eating on and she barely registered that she was being lifted rather easily onto it, the blonde nestled himself between her legs there so he was a hard hot body pressed against her most intimate bits; all arguments about the situation found themselves fleeing swiftly from her remaining coherent thought. He bit roughly into her shoulder at the same time he ground against her and she clutched at his shirt, "Draco!"

Draco's nostrils flared, taking in the heady scent of her arousal at his bite and growled her name against her skin enjoying how she shivered. His left hand migrated from her ass down her thigh and back up again under the edge of her prim skirt, groaning at the firm muscle there and all the heat coming from that sweet little spot just a few inches higher. His right mind was completely clouded by her scent, her heat, her soft moans and gasps from the path his teeth were taking down her neck to bury in her exposed bosom – it was a wholly feral urge to ravage her on the tabletop and it was overtaking any sense of normalcy he could pull to the forefront of his mind.

Draco chanced a glance up her ample chest to find her looking down at him, eyes glazed over and the corner of her lip sucked deliciously between her teeth, her cheeks pinked more when she realized he was looking at her, her small fists curling in the fabric of his dress shirt self-consciously. Perhaps it was the vulnerable look that pulled him part way out of his hormone induced fog, maybe it was just the way that she worried that plump bottom lip of hers, either way it distracted him from his work on her breasts and he crawled up the length of her curvaceous figure with wicked intent.

Hermione clutched harder at the expensive fabric over his shoulders when she came face to face with him, not recalling the last time they'd actually been nose to nose like this, "Malfoy-"

"Draco," he rumbled, eyes glittering silver in the darkening room, the sun having already set.

"Draco," her breath hitched when he leaned somehow closer, his lips hovering over hers and his left hand roaming up to the inside of her thigh with his thumb brushing across the simple satin knickers covering that last barrier. "We can't do this.."

_They couldn't, right?_ Hermione tried to climb out of the haze and think properly. She was a professional, things like sexual relationships didn't happen with your clients! Hell, she was _Hermione Granger_, sexual relationships with **Draco Malfoy** didn't happen. PERIOD.

"Like fucking hell we can't," he half snarled and ripped one of her delicate wrists from his shirt, replacing it so her palm pressed against the bulge in his pants, growling lowly in a near animalistic fashion when to his surprise her small hand moved to massage him curiously.

Hermione saw his sneer appear in the low lighting and something about it looked terribly off but she was distracted by the feel of him beneath her fingers. She could feel his skin burning hot through the thin fabric of those tailored slacks and the thickness of him ready to take her there on this very table – she imagined the Malfoy ancestors would roll in their graves at the very thought of a 'Mudblood' being thoroughly shagged on their quaint tea room table, particularly by the current heir to the line. Draco ground his hips against her hand, another of those unsettling growls vibrating against her lips where he still hovered over her oddly. Every touch, every breath against her was electric and pulled something in her, something tied to her very being. The strange energy buzzed through her and compelled her to touch him, to snake her other hand down to the band of his trousers and rip his shirt from its neatly tucked position so she could feel more of his skin – hot and smooth and...no, not smooth. She could feel coarse hairs under her fingertips across his abdomen; Hermione had a great deal of trouble thinking clearly, but she couldn't recall Malfoy striking her as an overly hairy individual. It seemed such a funny thing to think about laid out as she was: skirt pushed up her thighs, one of his large hands oh-so-lightly teasing her cloth covered slit, his pelvis grinding a languid and steady rhythm against her palm in time with his teasing, and his lips curled back away from his teeth – his very, _very_ sharp looking teeth.

Brows furrowed, Hermione's half-lidded eyes tried to focus. She wanted to ask him why they looked like that, why he didn't sound like himself, why his nails were digging into the flesh of her thigh but all she was able to manage was a throaty groan before _she_ closed the distance finally. Her lips latched onto his, alternating between biting the plump flesh and soothing it with her tongue. She pulled him to her with her hands on his waistband, the movement so sudden that he had to shift quickly to brace himself with an arm on either side of her but recovered swiftly to nip and bite at her own lips, the warm taste of salty copper entered her mouth but she paid it little mind.

The earlier energy flared brilliantly to life as her supple curves molded to every chiseled niche of his body, her legs wrapping tightly about his waist to grip him closely. She'd waited so long for this, to have him over her, moving inside of her, filling her completely, ever since they were young she'd watched him and observed him at court; the image of a roguish man with that trademark pale blonde hair smirking at her slyly entered her mind and it caused the energy coursing through her to stutter allowing a moment of clarity – _no...__this isn't my memory.._

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

The moment their lips met he was a lost man. Draco felt her pull him close with those firm, hot thighs wrapped around his bare waist and tensed his hands at her sides, darkening clawed nails digging into the wood of the table. His hips rolled forward to meet her, seeking the wetness behind her satin panties with a groan that vibrated through them both and made her shudder and moan into his mouth. He kissed her hungrily, devouring all the throaty noises she made while nibbling and suckling on her swollen lips. One hand, large, clawed, and rough with dark pads formed on the palms, combed up through Hermione's hair, cradling her head as he massaged her tongue with his own. Draco lost himself in the small woman arching up against him, writhing wantonly beneath him with those perfect breasts and tight little body grinding against his hard length in open invitation for him to rip her clothing apart and fuck her senseless.

"Malfoy, what the blazes-!" Hermione had gasped suddenly, pulling away from his lips. Somewhere in the middle of their heated kisses and touching she'd ripped open that impeccable dress shirt and found a disturbing layer of russet fur – for that's what it was – covering his chest and stomach. Her delicate hands had tangled in the length of the hair in her blind searching for the muscles of his abdomen finally startling her enough to look at what it was that was impeding her progress.

The startled noise below him drew his sensibilities back into place and once he followed her gaze it was as though he'd been hit with a wave of shockingly cold water. In a flash he pulled violently away, turning from her with a now obvious snarl seeping into his words, "Get out of here!"

Hermione had to blink, so confused by whatever had just happened. The second he was several feet from her it was as though a haze lifted. Taking in her more than disheveled state: hair falling out of her already messy bun, blouse unbuttoned as far as it could go before still being held together beneath the short black vest, skirt pulled up on her thighs exposing just the barest hint of her knickers, she defaulted back to her easiest of emotions in this situation – anger.

She followed his swiftly retreating form, following him down the hall with her voice rising and trembling in rage at each step. "What do you mean, 'get out'? You can't just _dry hump_ me on a bloody table and tell me to get out! Who do-"

"GET OUT!"

His roar cut her off, his previously fleeing form now turned on her. Before only a handful of feet away he was now in her face, a monstrous hand latched around her throat and slammed her into the nearest wall knocking the breath from her lungs. She blinked through dizzying stars to see what she barely recognized as Draco Malfoy's snarling visage, lips dark and pulled back over razor sharp teeth, his pointed features now broadened and already partly covered with that same russet fur that blanketed his chest. Hermione's eyes darted all over his face taking in the changes happening before her eyes and especially the curving horns breaking through his previously pale locks.

"M-Mal—foy-" She choked out past his hold on her throat, "Let me-g-"

With another snarl, Draco dropped her, allowing her to collapse into a coughing pile at his feet. He took several steps away down the hall before rounding on her again, the transformation now complete. "I told you to LEAVE!"

Hermione could barely recognize his voice now and made to respond but could only manage another set of coughs and a glare his way. Swallowing and rubbing at her neck she finally spoke, "_You're_ the beast?"

It was the wrong thing to say.

A threatening growl rolled through his muscled body and he was there again, nose to nose with her and on all fours but somehow still looming with his larger frame. "Now we see why our professors praised your immense intelligence, Granger."

It took her a moment to register the sarcasm, watching that fierce looking muzzle full of pearly white fangs somehow seamlessly form the words. Hermione's shock turned swiftly back to that stubborn glare and she set her jaw about to retaliate when that strange buzz of energy from before swept across her skin making her shudder.

Draco took the movement as an insult, reinforcing his earlier sentiment with a nicer wording though it was still laced with venom. "I'd. Like. You. To. **Leave.**"

Hermione barely got his name out before she'd lunged forward in a repeat of earlier in catching his lips, albeit very awkwardly given his...changes, and circled his muscled and furred neck with her arms. His balance was thrown and he rolled back on his haunches, hands bracing her curvy body when she pressed into him whilst on her knees. The kiss was brief but no less shocking and Draco looked to her in a confused manner even as the primal urges from earlier were flooding back in –**THIS** wasn't right.

"I..can't.." she started to say and shook her head, "Malfoy, what's happening?" Hermione barely recognized her own voice, thick with lust and need, her half-lidded eyes swept over his face finding herself altogether unfazed by the monster looking at her, so achingly close. The desire to touch him wasn't her own and it was frightening – terrifying even. It was as though whatever power coursing through her recognized and sought out the man in front of her, regardless of his form, and it wouldn't ease until it was satiated. She had a sneaking suspicion of how _that_ had to be accomplished...

Her scent reached his nose, now as the beast there was nothing to filter the musky odor of it – she was primed for the taking.._for him, __because of him_. He felt the errant power radiating off the witch in his arms and instinctively knew it was dangerous and he needed to be **away** from it as soon as possible. Draco gripped her hips, claws dwarfing her delicate frame in a laughable way and hefted them both to stand again. Hermione's legs instinctively came up to encircle his waist again and he groaned, pulling her into another kiss and swallowing the sweet mewl of contentment from the woman.

He stumbled with her in his arms, attacking her lips with his tongue and teeth and intermittently slamming her against the nearest wall or doorway to grind against whilst trying to maintain some semblance of sanity and get to the sitting room. _Just need to make it to the fireplace._ The mantra repeating in his head tried to drown out the other that was just shouting "_fuck __your__ bitch NOW_" - Merlin help him, it was hard to drown that one out.

"Gran...ger.." Draco grunted between the heated tugs of her lips, "You have to...get out of here."

Hermione shook her head violently, growing frustrated when he refused to meet her kisses anymore and instead drew his head to the crook of her neck and shoulder delighting in the way his tongue dragged along the sensitive skin just before he pulled the flesh between his teeth in a bite firm enough to bruise yet not quite pierce the skin. She cried out at the instinctive claim, arching into him and rowdily grinding her hips so firmly against his own that she could feel the length of him nestle between her nether lips even through their respective layers of clothing - or at least hers and what was left of his. It was her voice pleading but her thinking mind had long since fled, "Take me Draco, I need you! _Please!_"

In that moment – Draco Malfoy's final moment of clarity for the evening – he thought that if there were a being of fate or judgment that truly existed in their world, he should be absolved of all sins for his and a million other lifetimes for his next actions.

Pulling his face from her sweet smelling flesh, possessiveness welling in his chest as the purplish bruise was already blooming to life on her skin, a meaty paw left its perch on her curves to dip into the tray of floo powder and toss it into the fireplace he'd finally managed to get to. With a rumbling growl he called for The Ministry and extricated himself from the smaller witch to deftly deposit her into the green flames, watching her get sucked away AGAIN with the most humorous look of surprise in those wide chocolate eyes and closing the floo immediately after.

**__****Tuesday****__****, January 2****__****3****__****, 2001 – ****__****7****__****:00****__****P****__****M**

The sudden crash and yelp of a certain Hermione Granger caused the lone janitor that had been peacefully sweeping the Atrium floor across the way to stop and stare.

Hermione's eyes darted about, taking in her new surroundings as that fog from earlier lifted away again and the realization of what all just happened dawned on her, each mounting tier of horrified embarrassment completely visible on her face. She was startled out of her mental recounting of events by a soft but pronounced clearing of a throat and she finally noticed the man with the large push broom eying her suspiciously with just a hair of concern.

Hermione flushed then, taking into account her barely dressed self and hurriedly re-buttoned her blouse wincing only a bit when she moved her bruised shoulder. Shooting the man a stern look she tilted her head defiantly, "What then? You've not got work to do?" She clumsily clambered to her feet almost tripping over her own heeled shoes. Tugging down her skirt that still rode high on her thighs, she pointedly dusted herself off. "Go on then! Nothing at all to see here!"

The man watched her stomp loudly to the other set of fireplaces across from her entry point and heard her shout her location before disappearing again. With a snort and shake of his head, the man went back to his sweeping – nothing to see indeed.


	9. Chapter 8 - The Morning After

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

* * *

**__****Wednesday, January 24, 2001 – ****__****10****__****:****__****3****__****0AM – Sick Day**

It was a pleasant day for a Wednesday. The sun filtered in nicely through the shades of Hermione's bedroom window, lighting up her modest bedroom with a soft light. Little particles of dust floated carelessly through the sunbeams creating a sense of simple calm to the room. The draft of the winter weather was present within the walls of her small flat but seeing as she was completely hidden under the flat sheet, a fleece blanket, and her fluffy down comforter with her head hidden under no less than three cushy pillows, she didn't mind so much.

Hermione had owled in sick for today after the catastrophe that was yesterday evening at Malfoy Manor. She'd gotten home shortly after seven o'clock and proceeded to have a complete panic attack at what had just happened. She ripped off her clothing a bit stiffly and proceeded to stand and scrub herself off in the shower until her skin was tinged pink all over and the water had run cold. Her reflection upon exiting the shower had been an atrocious sight indeed: her left shoulder had bruised colorfully, flowering out in multiple shades of blue and purple originating at the crook of her neck, several welts had puckered up on the tops and inner part of the thigh that Malfoy had been groping in the tea room with his claws, and her hips and bum had small bruises and welts peppering the area as well from the grip he'd had on her as they stumbled through the hallway towards the sitting room in their lust drunk haze. Hermione touched the evidence of their 'almost romp' together delicately and was appalled to find herself unable to control the fine shiver that swept through her body when each touch triggered the memory of his ministrations. Disgusted with her ludicrous behavior, she'd changed into her pajamas and went to bed, burying herself under her bed linens in hope that she could just forget about what happened for the rest of the night.

Her decision to stay home for the day was cemented when she woke up in the wee hours of the morning from an extremely vivid and extremely raunchy erotic dream that featured none other than the blonde terror himself. With a sneer, Hermione extracted herself from her covers having had to change her knickers as, evidently, it was a _very_ good dream. She tripped her way to her bathroom and screamed when she saw her reflection for the second time, noting that all the previously bruised bits had settled into deep blue-black shades of color and her neck was painfully stiff. When she would move her head, her shoulder ached and sent little tingles of pleasure through her belly and nether region – no, she couldn't go into work today and work alongside that man again. Hell, she was quickly starting to feel she may need to request a reassignment; but the thought of that did nothing but raise her anxiety levels further as she thought again of the repercussions for failing to handle such a high profile case. Stifling her growing anxiety attack, Hermione resolved to just owl in sick for today and take a day away from Malfoy, his house, and his stupid, stupid curse that was somehow affecting her now too.

From beneath the pile of covers and pillows, Hermione groaned, the fluffy mass moving and finally falling away as she struggled to sit upright. The pain in her shoulder was worse now than when she'd woken up earlier and noticed it – but then as it healed she supposed that was to be expected. She slept in later than she had meant to today but all she'd really planned on doing was trying to see about some research on curses. Hermione just knew that whatever had affected her last night was tied to Malfoy's curse, there was something magical about what fueled her sudden need for the damned wanker but it was an odd brand of it. There was the definite pull of energy that had sparked through her but it seemed to come from within her – from within her own magic. The best she could figure was that there was something tied into the curse that would somehow manipulate her natural magic and reform it into something more malicious like she'd witnessed. Yes. That was it. ...but, no, that really didn't make any sense.

Alright, so much for taking the day off of the assignment altogether. At least she'd be away from the man himself. As skeptical as she'd been about taking this case on in the first place, she couldn't deny it was very intriguing and far more exciting than negotiating magical creatures' rights.

As she understood it, Malfoy needed to be wedded prior to his twenty-first birthday to dispel the curse. Why would the very same spell have an effect woven into it to attract a nearby female, especially if he was in his monstrous bestial form? Wouldn't that part of the curse be there to deter an attraction in the first place? She remembered the pull on her magic quite clearly, much to her dismay. She needed him. It was a physical need, an ache, that went far beyond normal desire. Hermione had needed to feel his hands on her flesh, over as much of her skin as possible, she wanted his lips on her most sensitive parts, nipping and biting and kissing and licking. She _wanted_ to feel his teeth tug and mark the meat of her shoulder and nearly came undone when they had. She needed him to rip the clothing from her and ravage her in the hallway so roughly that she came over and over crying his name until her throat went raw and she had no care if it were man or beast that took her so long as it was **him**.

Hermione shuddered again and decided on a cold shower to start her day and plan where to begin her research on the topics plaguing her mind.

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

Surrounded by stacks of journals, the blonde man swiped a hand over his face and the darkening bags forming under his eyes. Groaning, Draco let his head 'thunk' against the surface of the table he sat at in his library. Last night was awful. She'd caused the change in him early again and from the snippets he'd managed to put together from further research in the old journals it was due to his elevated emotions and...hormones. Apparently, "The 4 F's" of survival were a large factor in triggering the transformation sooner rather than later and unfortunately he could easily surmise that with their current partnership, there would be many more events where he would or would want to engage in at least three of the four with one Hermione Granger. If he were to be honest, Draco was quite relieved to receive the letter from The Ministry that his caseworker had owled in sick today, he didn't really think he could face the bushy haired witch again just yet. But then she wasn't really that same obnoxious bushy haired know-it-all witch anymore was she? No, she was still a know-it-all for sure, but a lot had changed in the years he hadn't seen her. Hell, a lot changed in the latter few years in school with her too.

Of course everyone noticed her after her showing at the Yule Ball in fourth year, you would've had to have been bloody blind not to, but it seemed she took that realization that she was a not too unattractive young woman and ran with it. Those Muggle jeans she favored wearing outside of classes coupled with those tight jumpers left little to the imagination when it came to her budding womanhood. The way the clothing hugged each supple curve and accentuated her long, narrow waist and legs that went on forever – Draco groaned again and 'thunked' his head a second time against the desk.

What, by Merlin's beard, was wrong with him? He'd never looked at her this way before she stumbled back into his life...alright maybe once or twice, but what teenage boy doesn't have forbidden desire daydreams? She was a Mudblood and he was not just a Pureblood, but a _Malfoy_, there was no way anything would ever have happened between them. It simply couldn't. Draco thought back to his constant and frustrating rivalry with Hermione Granger in school, before everything turned into a real life or death matter. He was always expected to do well and come in with top marks in each and every one of his classes but there she was, always just barely ahead of him. His father had been severely disappointed in Draco that he couldn't even beat out a filthy Mudblood in academic studies so he had to redouble his efforts and attempted to thwart her confidence and studying at every given opportunity to give himself some kind of edge. Thinking about it now it made him snort and shake his head, if only marks in boarding school had been his greatest concern in the greater scheme of things.

Deciding he'd had enough of thinking about the past, Draco righted himself and scanned his eyes across the stacks of journals again with a grimace. He'd found out about his emotions affecting the timing of his change but he had yet to find anything about Granger's behavior. As much as he would like to take credit for being just that irresistible, Draco suspected that she wasn't normally so...forward with her attentions. He didn't peg her as the type to walk into her old schoolmate's home and drop her breasts into his hands and practically beg him to fuck her if she were in her right mind – the memory made his famous smirk appear but he shook his head to quickly clear the thought before he derailed his more important thought process. Something made her act differently and by extension probably had done the same to him outside of the changes that the beast brought with it. Rolling his shoulders to help clear a crick from his neck, he went back to work looking through the worn pages in front of him.

**__****Wednesday, January 24, 2001 – ****__****2****__****:****__****3****__****0****__****P****__****M – Sick Day**

Hermione lay sprawled out on her living room floor, several stacks of old ratty looking parchment and tomes strewn about her in a semi-circle. She was comfortable on her belly, legs bent up toward the ceiling at a 90 degree angle and slowly and idly kicking back and forth while her eyes scanned the text in front of her, scooting along the path her finger traced across the old ink. She sighed for an uncounted time already and shut the book in front of her, rolling to her back to stare at the ceiling with an ink pen tiredly balancing on the shelf she made with her pursed lips.

None of these texts had been particularly helpful as of yet and she was a good halfway through them. The only positive lead she'd garnered so far was that the curse afflicting Malfoy had to be very old blood magic. There were no cursed items he'd come into contact with, no witch or wizard blatantly cursing him to his face, and with what evasive information he'd already provided her their first day together and now knowing the truth that he **was** the beast, it was the only thing that made any sense. The problem with this fairly solid lead for her was it raised more questions as to why she was affected the way she was when she was in such close proximity to him.

Hermione couldn't figure why the Malfoy men would be cursed with this kind of fate all resting on taking vows by their 21st year in the first place unless it was some silly case of a spurned lover. She chortled at the thought, she wouldn't be hard pressed at all to believe that one of the Malfoys pissed off the wrong witch at the wrong time and ended up paying for it – no that seemed just about right. The revelation didn't make her feel much better though seeing as it still didn't explain anything for _her_. If Draco was affected due to a curse on his bloodline as a punishment, she shouldn't have been drawn to him at all, she should have been terrified, appalled even at the monster she'd seen. She coughed away some errant thoughts as she recalled a very different response to him completely. No, there were still too many questions unanswered and too much information and history missing. Though Kingsley had been very accommodating with her secured owl to him requesting to send to her flat what references he had on curses and historical records of magic use before they became regulated affairs – no questions asked of course considering the confidential case and that it wasn't a strange occurrence for Hermione Granger to work from home on a sick day in the first place – she knew she wouldn't be able to get the answers she needed from the Ministry. She needed into that library at the Manor, if she were to find anything, it would be there.

Hermione was interrupted from her thoughts and pen balancing act by a forceful tap-tap-tapping on her living room window. She turned to see a large fluttering shadow outlined by the mid-afternoon sun on the other side of her curtains. Rolling back to her feet, groaning a bit at the stiffness still in her neck and shoulder, she drew aside the cloth to see the owner of the shadow to be a somehow snooty looking eagle owl with a large-ish leather satchel in its talons. Making quick work of opening the window to let the darned thing in, it wasted no time with dropping the bag onto her sofa and perching on an arm of the couch, looking to her expectantly for its compensation.

When she took too long staring at it in puzzlement, it made a shrill and irritated noise, flapping about and readjusting its perch on her cushions, tail flitting back and forth as though it were plotting something inherently nasty that involved its rear end and her newly reupholstered furniture.

"No! No no no! Stop that! Hold on, just one moment...my goodness...pushy little thing, aren't you?"

Hermione disappeared for only a moment more before returning with a handful of treats to give to the nasty creature, it inhaled them in a somewhat satisfied manner and excused itself just as quickly as it'd come. She rushed to the window to watch it retreat back to the sender, unable to discern who the owner was this way but she watched it fly away just the same. Shaking her head, she slid the pane back into place and made to look to the delivery she'd just received, eyes openly wary and clearly suspicious yet curious.

The satchel was leather, as she'd already noticed before, impeccable leather no less. It was worn only minimally and not unattractively at the edges and curve of the flap that hid its contents from the elements. The smell of it was strong but soothing and reminded her of the tomes in the Manor's library. At that thought, she hurried to open it, carefully extracting the contents from within and hefting several ancient looking journals in hand, the stack of them topped with a neatly folded letter that had that now familiar emerald seal adorning its front. Flopping onto the couch cushions, she set the journals to the side and popped open the seal to read the elegantly penned note:

**_Granger,_**

**_If I know you, and I do, you're not sick. I wasn't going to show you these but since it seems to be otherwise ridiculous to keep them from you now, here are some of the journals I've yet to comb through. _**_**Do you read French?** _

She rolled her eyes – of course she did.

**_Rhetorical question, of course you do. _**

**_In any case,__ I don't know what exactly happened last night, but I know you're __going to be __avoiding me __now __and as much as I loathe to __admit it__, it may be best __that we__ keep __face to face__ correspondence to a minimum. I'll owl Kingsley to let him know you're still on the case but not needed at the Manor right now. There are plenty more of these __journals to go through and I could use the __extra set of eyes__. I'll send Corvus with some more in a couple of days, if you find anything of note, let me know. __I can open access to the floo for you but considering how you almost ravaged me, I'd like to let that alone until we have __some__ kind of real breakthrough. Y__ou're off the list, remember?_**

Hermione snorted, ravaged him...why she never...

**_Speaking of, i__n the meantime I think you should go through with your original idea as a backup plan. __If we can't figure another way to break this curse, I will need to arrange a marriage before June. __I still have the files here that I want to look __through__ and I will send __you the final cut__ so you can do whatever it is you __need to__ do to arrange these abysmal dates. Remember that they will need to be during the daylight hours and keep my Sundays free._**

**_- __DM_**

**_P.S. - Next time you're over, do us both a favor and wear something ugly._**

She didn't realize how it was possible for him to be just as obnoxious via letter as he was in person, but there it was in black and white. Hermione shook her head grumbling only lightly, folded the letter back up neatly and padded her way to her kitchen to put the kettle on. Renewed at the prospect of making some actual headway on this Malfoy problem she opted to focus on that excitement and not the tinge of disappointment in her at the acknowledgment that she wouldn't be seeing him again for several days at least. She was sure that was just the remnants of whatever odd energy had taken hold of her yesterday evening talking though, the sooner she got to reading those journals the sooner they would both be out of each other's hair.


	10. Chapter 9 - The Words

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

* * *

**__****Friday, January 26, 2001 – 3:00PM**

_Tap! Tap tap tap tap tap! TAP TAP TAP!_

"Coming! I'm coming! Merlin, will you calm down you blasted bird!" Hermione picked herself up off her spot on her living room floor and danced around the files and journals stacked about all over the place to hustle to the window before Draco's owl had a conniption. Quickly flipping the latch on the large pane Hermione slid open the window for the owl to find his way inside.

Corvus flew in with another satchel full of journals – the fourth in the past three days – dropping the bag offhandedly onto her couch and gliding back to the bowl of treats she'd moved by the window so he wouldn't get miscreant ideas of how to redecorate her furniture while he waited for her to fetch some.

"You're just as irritating as your owner sometimes, you know that?" Despite her words, she reached out to brush the backs of her fingers across his feathered head softly and he let loose a series of quiet hoots but allowed her the contact anyway. They seem to have come to an understanding – for now.

Indulging in the attention for just a few moments longer, Corvus very abruptly decided he was done with being touched and nipped Hermione's hand lightly, just enough for her to pull back with a startled yelp and then he was off and out to the afternoon sky once again.

Hermione shot the retreating bird a particularly nasty look as she sucked the pinched finger between her lips to soothe it some. "Bloody damnable bird," she mumbled, shuffling back to her seat on the floor, tugging the satchel into her lap and emptying its contents onto the carpet in front of her.

She was faced with at least a dozen or so more thin and tattered leather bound pages, all in French, with little labels stuck to each of their covers with a sticking charm. Each tiny white label held a range of years and some of them had a name or two written on them as well in Malfoy's well practiced cursive. Quickly sorting through the new round of information, she placed them amongst the appropriate stacks spread out around her and retrieved an earlier discarded pad of paper and pen, eying each one thoughtfully while formulating a game plan.

Since the first set of journals arrived a couple of days ago, Hermione had been eager to peruse their pages and begin her extensive note taking process. Preferring a comfortable seat on the floor with several of her throw pillows for added cushyness, she'd settled in and went about dating each book with a quick skimming of the pages. Apparently, the act of diary keeping had maintained most of its traditional ways through the ages because the authors of these ones often had very clear identification at the beginning of each entry which made placing their age much easier than determining the individual authors themselves. She had taken to jotting down any significant names that she found repeating themselves through the pages on sticky notes and on one of Corvus' return trips she sent a request to Malfoy that he take a quick glance through each book that he was sending her to at least date them if he could. Surprised that he followed instructions so well – even down to literally putting a 'sticking note' to each cover – Hermione found it delightfully easy to get new entries into their proper stacks so as not to detract from her research.

Along with yesterday's journal delivery, Malfoy had also sent her his pick of single witches that he gave the go ahead to schedule dates with. Hermione had looked through each and every one that day, sighs of distaste escaping her left and right when she read through the notes attached to their basic statistics. All of them were brunettes, he had her return all the blondes' files along with the redheads' from the other night, and they were all also perfectly Pureblooded, their pedigrees flawless – it almost made her ill. Strange cursed behavior aside, he seemed a bit more...tolerant of her presence than she could say of his schoolyard self and she'd hoped that he was making real strides away from his prejudice.

Between the work he was doing with the Malfoy name to try and clip the negative connotations of it going forward and his at least cordial attitude – when they weren't trying to crawl into each others skins anyway – she thought he was making progress. To see nothing but the Pureblood picks come back to her was a disappointment that she couldn't really explain, not to mention that they all seemed to have rather large knockers from the photos that were available. Hermione had immediately recalled his reaction to her own bosom and distracted herself quickly from that line of thought with no small degree of irritation at her behavior that night, happy that she had some time to recoup from that most worrying experience. She was currently working from home, taking advantage of the letter Malfoy had sent to the Minister indicating that she was still needed for research and wouldn't be checking in to the Ministry for the rest of the week at least, though she'd still managed to arrange his first fateful date for the following Wednesday and owled him to tell him as much. If nothing else, this entire experience would definitely be a talking point for her resume.

Focusing once again on the task at hand, Hermione looked back over her notations so far. Draco provided her with a list of information that he already discovered on the curse to date from all the journals he sifted through as well as his own personal experience:

- _Origin over 100 years old __at least__, may be __much older, date is inconclusive, still working through journals._

_- __Curse effects a__ltered/controlled progressively with potion mixtures during conception and pregnancy (Wolfsbane primarily). Changes once __occurred the year of the Malfoy heir's 21st birthday and were permanent until wedded but with the introduction of potions during the pregnancy the changes became more closely regulated to moon cycles._

_- __Texts appear to indicate that the curse was cast by a former suitor of a Malfoy heir but no clear identification to which ancestor yet __or the name of the witch__._

_- Only known way to prevent transformation __from continuing __is for the heir to take his vows before the __sunset__ of his 21st birthday __and consummate the marriage__. Evidence suggests that if vows are broken, the curse would manifest itself more forcefully than before __as is the supposed tale of the original __curse-bearer._

_- The curse appears to be designed to worsen over time up to the heir's birthday. As days move forward, symptoms of the transformation will carry over to the day time: appetite, mental capacity/brain functions, physical manifestations __all becoming distinctly more feral. __Similar signs are seen in some lycanthropes._

_- The changes seem to happen of their own accord by the late evening after the sunset but can be triggered early by elevated stress levels. No transformation found on record yet that has occurred during any daylight hours __however__._

Hermione had been through several of the journals sent to her so far and hadn't been able to find much of anything to add to Draco's discoveries, much to her disappointment. The only significant additions she'd made to the list were a smattering of names she garnered from the worn pages, anything blatantly recurring that she saw the authors referring to through any entries. She was actually surprised at the detail of records that was kept by the Malfoys. It was an eerie thing to witness an heir's recollections of their experiences and the pattern that the diaries kept altogether. She was working her way backwards from the most-to-least recent records and she found that the older the journal, the less detailed the entries tended to be. It seemed as the years progressed forward the Malfoys tried to make more of a concerted effort to keep better information in hopes of finally ridding the black spot from their bloodline. A disturbing thing she noticed as well that also trended within each of the journals was as the individual authors' entries moved forward, the writing and coherency began to noticeably dwindle if there were no marriage arrangements procured early on – unless the entries were created by someone identifying themselves as anyone other than the male heir that is. In some cases, it seemed that the arrangements were made very close to their respective birthdays as a wicked kind of experiment to see if anything else was working to break the curse.

Hermione shuddered at the idea of being subjected to such an experiment; all the knowledge and literacy that she prided herself on every waking moment of every day disintegrating before her very eyes until she was shoved off into the arms of someone that just agreed to take the burden of the next generation of her family at the promise of wealth, status, and power. That's not how family was supposed to work! Hermione couldn't stand the thought of it, especially with the potential he had.

His insufferable qualities aside, Draco was actually quite brilliant. She knew that, before Voldemort set up shop in Malfoy Manor, she and Draco fought not only verbally at every point possible but academically as well. If they'd had a normal set of school years together she truly wasn't sure who would have graduated at the top of their year amongst their old classmates. If he had continued to excel in Quidditch and still done so well in his normal classes, she probably would have had to take on another set of courses or some kind of extracurricular activities to keep her name in the running. She found herself feeling largely sorry for Draco and his fate on all accounts, as she'd stated in her testimony for his freedom, she knew he was just a child to his parents' decisions. Left to his own devices, he would have excelled in everything that he put his mind to largely because that's just how he was and prejudiced or not, he could accomplish great things even if they weren't always in line with her own beliefs. Draco truly had the drive in him to do great things so long as he had a special someone he was doing them for.

_Draco_ – when did that happen? Thinking of him by his given name? Praising his wit and drive? _Probably the same time she heard herself begging the man to shag her senseless..._ Hermione snorted at that thought, groaned, then rubbed at her face. They needed to resolve this quickly, she was none too happy with the amount of time that she spent with her thoughts drifting back to the smartassed blonde wizard. Ever since their kiss she couldn't get him to stay out of her head in _that_ way. Everything she knew about him always seemed so sharp, unrelenting, rigid. His angular features and stark hair and glinting gray eyes struck her as very cold or terse. Never once would she have imagined that any part of him could be so soft, so heated, so delicious...so...so...

"SO time for tea," she interrupted her thoughts again.

Setting aside the pen and paper making to get back up hurriedly, she forgot she still had the leather bag in her lap and ended up having to clutch it by the bottom quite suddenly to keep it from falling and knocking all her somewhat organized piles into a mess. A small book fell from the innards of the pack onto the floor with a dense thud right onto the top of one of her bare feet. Loosing her second startled yelp for the day, Hermione flopped back onto the couch behind her, rubbing her sore foot in aggravation and setting her best stinkeye at the offending object. Finally working the sting of the injury out of her foot, she took a good look at what it was that hurt her in the first place.

Plucking the book from the floor, she immediately noted the heft of it, deceptively heavy for such a tiny thing. Flipping over the diary in her hand she took in the texture of the soft faded leather under the pads of her fingers. The cover was extremely well worn, veins of white peeked through what was once probably a richly colored shade of red, now mostly faded into a dull and uninteresting tan. Variegated splotches of remaining color peppered the surface making it difficult to define the embossed imagery all along the front, back, and sides of the book. Hermione ran her fingers across the decorative ridges and valleys, squinting to make out the pictures and found the front cover's image to be a simple looking rose housed in the center of what was once probably a family crest. An equally simple and floral themed border was stamped onto the four sides of both the front and back cover as well creating an especially feminine set of markings.

The spine had very pronounced ridges where the leather had worn thin from age and storage, this only seemed to highlight the meticulously sewn bindings of the pages housed within if anyone were to ask her opinion. Flipping it open briefly to glance at the state of the parchment, she found the gilded pages to be surprisingly clean and free of the normal signs of mold and spotting she was accustomed to seeing in older literature. A quick scan of the contents showed signs of frequently turned pages, proper and pretty looking swirls and loops adorning the majority of them with minimal smudging of ink between the words. All of it was filled to the brim with written text save for a sizable chunk near the back that was blank and a stark shade of off-white where the writing abruptly just stopped.

Shutting the diary again she examined the corners of the cover, finding them still quite pointy and in tact and not blunted or rubbed smooth; not at all what she expected from something that seemed so old. An image of a young woman carefully, _daintily_, opening this very same journal in an almost reverent fashion floated into the back of her mind as she distractedly turned the thing over and over in her hands repeatedly, familiarizing herself with it as though she'd touched and seen and _smelled_ this piece of history before. The smell – that was the oddest thing so far about the little journal; she'd been around books her entire life and knew ones like this to have a certain aged scent to them, but this one smelled like...it smelled like roses? The scent itself was extremely subtle and there definitely was still the musty odor of old parchment that she adored so much, but she was sure that odd and slightly enticing fragrance interwoven with it was the scent of roses.

Chancing a sneaky look around her flat – as though someone were due to pop out from nowhere at any given moment – Hermione brought the journal to her nose and drew in a slow, deep, breath. The aroma moved subtly through her olfactory senses at first, dancing across her nose, her tongue, triggering all sorts of memories and associations tied to the sweet, pleasant smell of rose bushes then all at once it became sudden and shocking. Jolting upright and dropping the book, Hermione gasped, her heart rate speeding up as a dull hum buzzed to life in her ears growing louder by each passing second. Shrill bursts of noise crackled randomly in her ears, alternating between the two several times before they raised in pitch and just blended together completely, pulling a pained shriek from her throat. Clamping her hands over her ears to will away the growing and discomforting noises, she shut her eyes only to see flashes of confusing scenes popping into view behind her eyelids.

_...dancing..._

_..laughter...snow..._

_..a beautiful woman in a blush colored gown, chestnut curls pulled atop her head in an elegant way to expose a long line of neck and a teasing curve of breast...__amber eyes flecked with gold...angry golden eyes.._

_..wine...red...__a magnificent garden dusted in white..._

…_...floating candles lighting __the courtyard..._

_..a handsome man, sleek pale blonde hair pulled back into a low anchored ponytail...intense silver eyes...hungry...attentive..__lustful..._

_...red...red dress...blonde hair...a mussed bun...the curve of painted lips parted in passion..._

_...angry...angry golden eyes._

Ripped from the mental pictures forced upon her, Hermione lurched backwards from her previously hunched position, slamming to the back of the couch and knocking her head against the wall in the process. The bump to her noggin seemed to further jerk her from her shocked state and she looked around frantically, hand clutched to her chest over her heart to try to calm the excited pattering of it against her ribcage. Gulping in huge breaths, she shook her head, swallowed, and shook her head again, a fine tremble seating itself in her small frame. Opening eyes that found themselves closed once again, Hermione was relieved to find the images to have stopped although her dilated pupils and hammering pulse still acted as though she were there, witnessing the happenings first hand – experiencing the emotions first hand.

Her heart ached, not in real physical pain, but with a hurt that was deeper and impossible to soothe away. She knew this feeling; she felt it when the reality that after all the hardships and war with only the best of intentions in her choices that she...that _she_ killed her own parents with the very love she was trying to protect them with. The ache, it was a pining of something impossible to have. A yearning for a love that will _never _be attainable again, and the anger and rage created by the fact that there was absolutely nothing you could do to fix that fact. An earth shattering loss that rattled the fiber of her being, shook her to the core. A void that couldn't begin to be filled with all the magic in the world. She felt the sorrow melt into her bones, into her gut with the cold, harsh truth laid out before her with nothing left to do but accept the reality of it. No more love from her family because she killed them. No more from her lover because she pushed him away. No more comfort from her friends because she was nothing more than a handy tool in time of need.

It was that kind of an ache and it was decidedly **_very real_**.

Hermione let out a shuddering breath she hadn't realized she was holding, staring at the little journal laying innocently once again at her feet. **_This_**. This may be the lead that they needed to even begin making progress on Malfoy's curse. Reaching for it wearily, the pads of her fingertips ghosted over the spine and she felt a jot of energy similar to a static shock that made her hesitate before finally closing her hand back around it and retrieving it from its place on the floor. She felt and heard that dull buzzing again, but this time it faded away after only a couple of seconds. Eying the suspicious diary with a tired and doleful look, Hermione's right mind tried to speak up then, saying something about flooing to Malfoy's to let him know she may very well have a breakthrough in his case. She should tell him. She shouldn't be alone to look at this, could be dangerous-

_'__I don't want to be wrong though.__'_ She thought insistently, her thoughts still jarred and a touch fragmented from her visions and personal recollections. The justifications rolled through her mind like they made all the proper sense in the world. '_It wouldn't do to get him worked up over nothing. __He may be upset if I'm wrong. I should make sure...__I'd better look more into it before I tell him...__'_

Ever the stupidly curious and courageous Gryffindor she was – or just stupidly curious – Hermione curled her legs underneath her, settled herself down as though in a trance and flipped open the diary to begin reading the courtly French script of one Bellerose LeClair.


	11. Chapter 10 - The Visit

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** Trying to stay a full two chapters written ahead so that I can afford to keep posting every few days or so. Remember to review if you feel so inclined, I do read them all, promise! Also there was an edit I did a few days back to the prologue to realign some points in my story and keep the continuity going, nothing major, just a snippet. Happy reading. -Slik

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**__****Sunday, January 28, 2001 – 1****__****0****__****:00****__****A****__****M**

White. Sterile. So quiet. It was always so very quiet.

Draco sat just as quietly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees turning a bouquet of lilies repeatedly in his hands. He dressed in his preferred dark attire and though it was a casual set of charcoal colored slacks and jacket he wore, he was still the only dark spot in waiting room. Sighing heavily, he brushed his fingers over the soft, silky buds waiting patiently to be called on. The lilies were white with a delicate splash of color that dragged up the center of each happily curled carefree little petal. The deep violet swipe down their middles were dotted with tiny black spots, creating interesting patterns in their own right on each individual part. All in all, they added a pleasant splash of color to the creamy shade of white – completely unlike the jarring contrast he created in this _blasted_ room.

The soft lines of sunlight streamed in from several open windows on the far side of the room and Draco entertained himself by watching dozens of tiny specs floating around in the rays. He sighed impatiently, the sound so loud in the otherwise completely silent and still area that it caught the receptionist's attention. They locked gazes for mere seconds: his daring her to say something, hers narrowed in irritation as though she were simply waiting for him to do something so she could kick him out, then just as quickly as it'd happened it was over, each one turning back to their own respective business. With a shake of his head, Draco leaned back in his chair uncomfortably and took to idly stroking the petals of the largest bud with the gentlest of touches. Lilies were his mother's favorite flower, this species of them in particular. She kept a magnificent garden at the Manor, or at least she used to when she was up and about and in her right mind, and these were her most prized flowers from her selection.

Left to his own assumptions, Draco never would have picked his mother for liking anything as colorful as even these ones but she had told him once that they held a simple elegance that she was quite fond of. The flower itself was rather plain, not typically flamboyant or flashy in the way many can be. They were simple but beautiful and held just enough startling color to draw the eye but not detract from their natural grace. Where you would think of flowers, you would often think of loud, bright or bold colors but with this flower it held only enough of an eye catching shade to draw your attention. It was then that you would examine closer and see there was truly a myriad of reds, blues, purples, black – all intermingling fluidly along the length of each petal as it arched like an equally fine and delicate woman reaching for a good morning's stretch. Narcissa talked on and on about it, fondly tending to the plant in question while pointing out each entrancing feature and Draco really always just thought: '_They're just flowers..._' Now they seemed to remind him a little of someone that had an equally alluring personality all their own, a deceptively rich one if you took a moment to really look at them; complicated depths beyond that delicate first impression.

He stared hard at the bouquet, thinking of his mother before he'd ever had to bring her here; the days after his father was sentenced to life in Azkaban. Narcissa had been alright at first, probably more in shock at the reality of the situation than anything, but she did well enough. She insisted that they go see his father every week, every Sunday, when they would allow them a very brief but routine visit. He would exchange brief and often terse words with the eldest Malfoy then hang back to allow his parents to have their moment together prior to being escorted out again.

When Narcissa would have her chance to speak with her husband, Draco was always in wonder at the way her normally stoic features lit up. He supposed if one weren't used to being around her they probably wouldn't actually be able to tell the difference, but he saw it. The way her eyes softened upon seeing him, shoulders relaxed, lips curved in a very small and hardly noticeable smile that reached her eyes and posture as she leaned towards the man even with the cold iron of the bars separating them. More astonishing in his opinion was the way Lucius responded as though she were the literal light of his life. His ice cold, steely eyes would melt at seeing his Narcissa and Draco did not miss the affectionate way the older man's hands rested atop her own, thumbs brushing circles over her delicate knuckles where she would always rest them against the cell door.

The couple would speak of mundane things, as many as they could fit into their short time together:

_How was he doing?_

_What was she up to during her days at the Manor?_

_How are the family investments going?_

When it was time to go, they never doted on each other spewing _I love you_'s and _I miss you_'s at one another through the gaps and would simply say _'I will see you next week.'_ And that was that.

It was the same thing every week and Draco tended to feel like a kind of voyeur after a while. Though no words of their affections were so blatantly shared, their looks, their mannerisms, their hidden meanings, they were all intimate in a way he wasn't quite sure he understood. Though he held no love for his father these days, the way that his mother brightened was enough for him to remain tolerant. The time stretched on that Lucius remained in Azkaban and while the Dementors were gone, the prison was still a place that could drive one mad. The ghastly guards may not have been there actively inflicting the despair and terror into each prisoner anymore but the walls were saturated with centuries of blood and tears that could not simply be washed away and forgotten, the sadness was built into the stone walls and still managed to seep its way into the prisoners as the days moved on. When Lucius began to lose himself, so did his mother and a most familiar dread grew in Draco at watching the woman falling apart before him with there being nothing he could do.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's head snapped up, jolted from his daydreaming by an older witch standing at the entry way to the hall with a clipboard in hand. "Yes."

"Mrs. Malfoy will see you now. Sorry about the wait, she wanted to clean up a bit before she would accept any company."

He just nodded, pushing to his feet and sweeping past the Healer down the hall to his mother's room.

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

Narcissa floated about her modestly sized hospital room, fluffing the new bouquet of flowers Draco brought her and setting it next to the others from the previous visits that she was still nursing along lovingly. Her pale hair was piled atop her head freshly washed and dried and she wore a fluffy looking robe over a simple cotton gown – she looked more comfortable than Draco was ever used to seeing her look at home.

"Thank you again for the flowers, Draco." Narcissa took her son's hands loosely in her own and gave him a fond peck on the cheek that he mirrored habitually.

"Of course, mother. Anything I can do to help brighten the room up for you."

"My sweet boy your visits are all that are required, you know that. Come now, sit and tell me about what you've been up to this past week." She led him to a round table set in the corner of the room and they each took a seat by the tea set all laid out and ready for the pouring as it always was every Sunday morning.

Draco recounted the happenings of his week since his last visit, mostly talking of how he was taking a break from managing the Malfoy investments at the moment to work on another project. She listened attentively, interjecting at all the appropriate times with the proper things to say and inquiring further when it was expected. To an outsider, they may think the exchange very impersonal but Draco came to realize the meanings within his mother's mannerisms from his observations of her and his father before he had to have her admitted to St. Mungo's.

When they talked like this she seemed alright and he often wanted to request for her release and take her home, though sadly he knew better. Narcissa _was_ fine during the day for the most part when she could occupy herself with things like redecorating or tending to her garden – anything that would keep her mind busy and her hands occupied. The worry came more at night when the darkness reminded her of the dreary walls of Azkaban and remembering how Lucius looked withering away in his cell. When it finally reached the point where he was no longer fit to receive visitors, the woman wasn't sure what to do with herself. In the darkness of the night her mind would wander, she would think of the happier times of the three of them as a family, maybe flip through some of her photo albums she always insisted that they keep, and inevitably she would begin her fall into her depression.

It came on subtly at first and Draco knew she was upset but didn't realize how severely the absence of his father affected her. Early on she complained of sleeping poorly and waking often, the years of routine of sharing her bed with her husband disrupted. Narcissa carried on, however, mentioning it offhandedly here and there but otherwise keeping the fact that she was now barely sleeping at all to herself. The day that Draco finally realized that she needed assistance the likes of which he was unable to provide was when he found her collapsed outside on a particularly nasty kind of Autumn day. He had been busy going over charity event planning and prospective investments and went to break for lunch with his mother only to find that she wasn't there. Narcissa was seldom late for any engagement, even something so casual as lunch in the sun room overlooking the garden and at first he thought little of it until the easy view to her favorite flower bushes showed her frail looking figure sprawled out among the grass. Draco never knew he could move with such haste until that day.

The Healers that took care of her informed Draco that she was outside in the cold air long enough to develop a mild case of hypothermia. A case such as that was dealt with easily enough for them but after she was stabilized, her other symptoms became a great deal more obvious. Narcissa had lost quite a bit of weight over the weeks since she'd first started having trouble sleeping, her appetite having declined significantly. The lack of sufficient nourishment started causing her dizzy spells which, in turn, created feelings of intense nausea that made her less enthusiastic to take in the already small amounts of food she was barely getting thereby completing the cycle and perpetuating itself until finally her body just gave out. They declared that his mother was dreadfully malnourished due to depression and at the news Draco was beside himself with anger and guilt. He worried greatly for her condition then and felt so much rage at the idea that he didn't even realize what was happening in his own home. He saw her every day and never _once_ realized how weak and ill she had grown.

Looking at her then in the hospital bed resting, he'd noted her paler complexion shadowed by the deep bags beneath her eyes and pronounced hollows of her cheeks and declared to himself how absurdly obvious it all was. How could he not have seen this? Draco supposed he _had_ been extremely busy those past couple of months working on digging the Malfoys out of the publicity nightmare that erupted post-war thanks primarily to Lucius. Between scheduling and attending conferences, meetings, balls, et cetera Draco was immensely busy and fell into a routine established before Narcissa's decline in health to the point where he simply did not notice what was happening to her until it manifested itself in the most dramatic kind of way. Whatever the reasoning, though, he found it impossible to forgive himself for letting her down – after all, she was the only family he had left, what good was he if he couldn't even take care of her?

"Draco?"

He blinked, finding a curious and concerned set of blue eyes staring at him.

"Darling are you alright?"

Draco blew out a soft breath and nodded, placing one of his hands over hers and giving it a little squeeze. "Fine, mother. I apologize, I got distracted. What were you saying?"

Narcissa ignored his attempt to shirk the question. "Draco," a hint of that stern motherly tone snuck into her words, "Come now, tell me what is the matter."

"It's nothing. I just," he sighed heavily watching the path of his thumbs as they now traced the peaks and valleys of the knuckles of both of her hands, "I wish you could come home."

The woman's face softened at the helplessness evident in his voice and flipped her hands palms up so she stilled the nervous movements of her son's fingers. "Oh my precious boy, I know you do. Please know Draco that I'm not upset with you about following the Healer's instructions. I understand that you are very busy-"

"No! Mother, I am never too busy to care for you. I should never have been so oblivious. I should take you out of this ridiculous place today and I can look after you instead of some group of strangers flitting about day and night!" '_Night... Damn it all!'_ How could he forget about the curse already?

Narcissa tugged on his hands lightly to draw his attention back to her once again, "Draco. What has you so rattled?"

"Rattled? I don't know what you-"

"Son, do you think me blind?" She sounded slightly offended now, "I've spent your entire life caring for you: rocking you to sleep in my arms when you were but a babe, spoiling you rotten with anything our money could buy, soothing your punishments for ill performance in school. I know when you are troubled and I know when you are lying to me. I also know that I have raised you better than to think you can fool your mother, so I ask you again, what is it that is bothering you?"

Draco reluctantly met her eyes, searching them for traces of anger but finding only a maternal concern. He relented at last but not quite sure how one would correctly broach the subject. "Are you aware there is a curse on our bloodline?"

Narcissa's brows furrowed apparently not expecting to hear those words at all. She tilted her head to one side a bit like a bird, "Curse? What curse?"

He could see the confusion clearly on his mother's face and it seemed genuine. Draco supposed that since the curse was on the Malfoy line that she may actually know absolutely nothing about it, but he also thought that highly unlikely. He allowed her another confused moment before prompting her again in an attempt to jog her memory before he would allow himself to launch into any other emotions that were quickly building in his gut at the idea that his last familial link to the problem may actually _**NOT** _be able to help him at all.

"A nasty one, mother. Old and full of malice. I first was subjected to it at the start of the New Year."

"New Year...I don't know of any...oh! Oh no, Draco!" She gasped, hands pulling from his suddenly to clasp over her mouth, wide blue eyes looking – _searching_ – her son for some evidence of the malady plaguing her son.

She knew. It was clear to him then. He knew he shouldn't be mad. They all were quite preoccupied these past several years with a startling set of events that once started never seemed to end, drawing the attention away from any regularly scheduled milestones in their lives. Draco understood that he shouldn't be upset that such an important thing was glossed over in the excitement of the war – but, by Merlin, he was.

His jaw ticked and he reminded himself to control his tone but still failed to do so, "I see that you are familiar with it, then. Nice of you to inform me."

Narcissa looked to him pleadingly, reaching back out to cup his face in her hands. "Oh Draco, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. W-we-Lucius and I, we were making arrangements for you so that you would never have to deal with this, never even have to know! I-I ..my boy, I-" She stammered and babbled her apologies at the full realization of what her only child was now being forced to suffer through.

Draco loosed another sigh, tugging the trembling hands from his cheeks and moving to offer her a comforting embrace, "It's alright. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. It's not your fault, shh, shhhh, calm down." He felt the older woman's shoulders bobbing at a growing rate in time with her speeding heart rate and he tried to calm her before she gave herself a panic attack and dissolved into tears. Rubbing soothing circles over her back with a cupped palm, Draco spoke softly into her hair, "It's alright mother, I'm not upset. Please calm down. I didn't want to speak with you about it since you were still feeling ill so I have been researching what I could in our library."

Nodding her head, Narcissa pulled away enough to look back into those gray eyes – a spitting image of her husband. "We have to find you a wife, and soon," she stated resolutely.

"I've been researching," he said again, "I'm trying to find another way to lift this blasted thing." Draco had to fight the sneer threatening to draw his lip at the thought of suffering through an arranged marriage even though he'd agreed to screening the potential 'clients' with Granger's assistance.

"But Draco the Malfoy family has been trying to find a cure for decades...centuries even and have continued to be unsuccessful! They've tried potions, magic, foreign rituals...there _is_ no cure to be found."

"I'm getting help with it." He wasn't entirely sure why he added that bit of information. Maybe it was the way she spoke with such conviction. Maybe beyond the thought of an arranged marriage it was the thought of wanting a proper family but the price of having one being subjecting his future son to such a potential fate as his made him resolute on the issue. Whatever it was, it seemed important to make her understand that he wasn't planning on doing this the traditional Malfoy way.

"Help?" Her eyes widened, "Who on earth did you entrust this secret to?"

Draco swallowed thickly and he suddenly felt like a boy again having done something worthy of a reprimand. "Hermione Granger..."

"Granger...Granger..." Narcissa tasted the name on her tongue multiple times, mentally searching for a face to match the name until her eyebrows shot up in recognition, "Potter's Mudblood?"

He opted for a tight-lipped nod instead of a verbal response. Hearing his mother use that particular phrase always made him a bit uncomfortable despite the fact that she's directly one-half of the reason that he was as prejudiced as he was through school. It always just seemed too vulgar a term for her to say so bluntly where her socialite self would prefer to merely not even acknowledge their kind at all.

"Draco...oh Draco, do you understand what this could do to you? What _she_ could do to you now? If she were to expose you when-"

Draco relocated his hands to her arms, finding them unpleasantly thin in his grasp. "Mother! It's fine. Trust me. Granger won't breathe a word of this to anyone."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Let's just say that if she does, all I have to do is say the word and her career is over."

The sly smirk that he flashed her then did its job of reassuring her, she never noticed that it didn't reach his eyes at all. Narcissa cupped one of her son's pale cheeks fondly, "Sometimes you remind me so much of your father."

His mother pulled him in for another comforting hug then and he quickly dropped his conniving smile when she was no longer watching. For some reason the idea of using his leverage over Hermione's job – no, her very career – wasn't something he'd given much thought to before and now that he had, it didn't settle well. It was a perfectly Slytherin thing to do...so why did it make his inside churn so?


	12. Chapter 11 - The Wronged

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

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**__****Wednesday, January 31, 2001 – 5:00AM**

"_Darling! Darling? Where are you? It's time for the toast! Sweeheart?" The slender pale skinned woman adjusted the fur lined cloak more tightly about her shoulders and peeked her head around the well manicured and snow dusted shrubberies that lined the pathway back to one of the smaller gazebos. "Darling? The guests are waiting, we really musn't dawdle."_

"_Ohhhh just like that-"_

_She scrunched her face at the odd moan coming from the direction of the enclosed shelter just down the __way__. Haven't people heard of silencing charms? At her engagement party no less, honestly, what nerve! About to call out, her words caught on her tongue when it came again, louder this time._

"_OHHHHH my lord! You feel so go-ood!"_

_'My lord?' She heard a low masculine growl and a resounding slap followed __by the same woman's sudden squeak – a noise that didn't really seem all that pained if she noticed correctly._

"_Quiet yourself! Someone is bound to hear you!"_

_THAT voice she recognized and the flurry of emotions that swept through her in that instant were impossible to process gracefully. Shock. Dread. Hurt. __**RAGE**.__ The last was the most overpowering of them all and it's what propelled her satin shoed feet across the cobblestones to bust into the grounds maintenance shed to find her fiancé being straddled rather crudely by one of the young guests from their party._

_The woman had to have been about her age if not a hair younger, her skin was equally pale like her own and superbly unblemished save for a budding red handprint on one of her shapely butt cheeks. Where her own hair was a spiral mass of rich brown curls, this girl's was a pale blonde to rival her future husband's and barely hanging onto the decorative clip that had once held it so prettily atop her head. She could only see the back of her slim figure but quickly took in her complete nudity – save for the saucy red colored slippers still attached to her small feet. The way the girl's hips were aligned over her fiancé's and the sensual way they rolled against him left no question in her mind as to exactly what was going on here._

_Only just now seeming to notice the new addition to the room, the blonde man sat straighter in the ruddy armless chair propped in the corner of the storage shed. Despite the golden flame lighting her eyes now, he simply flashed her a wicked smile over the blonde woman's shoulder __and gave her a nod, "Hello darling."__T__o her credit the girl tried to clamb__er off of him after she realized they'd been caught, but his firm grip held her there and insisted on the continued movements of her hips – clearly intent on finishing before they dealt with the newcomer._

"_What...what is THIS?!" She could feel the heat building in her chest, worming its way up her neck to her cheeks and coloring every inch of skin it breezed upon in a livid shade of red._

"_Just a bit of clearing the pipes before the __speech__, love, nothing to be worried about." He tucked his chin against the blonde's neck, peering at his wife-to-be saucily while biting at the girl's flesh. The girl was noticeably uncomfortable now but he kept her hips locked to his with his hand, reaching a hand between them to toy with her sensitive bud of flesh to bring her to her peak on top of him with his future wife watching in stunned silence._

_She turned her head sharply to the side when the girl came undone, hearing her now embarrassed moan filling the small building and her fiancé's grunt of release following shortly after. The sound of scuttling was lost on her until the young girl cowered before her, clothed once again in a red dress the color of wine looking notably disheveled._

"_I-I'm sorry my __l__ady, I didn-"_

_SLAP!_

"_Get. Out. Of. My. Sight." The brunette growled lowly, the sound more a rumbling of breath from her chest pushing __past__ her teeth than words._

_Without another word the blonde woman __swept__ past her and scrambled out of the shed into the cold winter evening. She turned back to her betrothed then, pushing the hurt clenching at her heart __down __and away__, resisting its pull into sadness. _

"_What is the meaning of this? Calling off the engagement then?"_

_The man scoffed. He was fully dressed now, though before he'd really only been sans trousers for his impromptu quickie in the equivalent of a broom closet. "Merlin no! Come, Belle, we'll be late to the real party."_

_Belle jerked away from his hand when he made to touch her, appalled anger and horror evident on her face. "Don't TOUCH me! You cannot mean to just ignore being sunken into a—a—a cheap SLAG at OUR celebration and expect me to just go along with it! I want to know what this is all about and I want you to tell me NOW, or so help me Merlin, I'll-" She found her tirade cut short by the sudden clamping of a hand at her jaw, coaxing her bruisingly against the nearest solid surface and his glinting silver eyes staring straight into her own._

"_You'll what? You'll hex me?" He snorted, "Come off your high horse, Belle. We both understand this marriage to be most profitable for our families __and we have duties to uphold__. You get to carry the Malfoy name onwards and all the good fortune that comes with it and we will get to extend our interests back to Bordeaux. I have heard your family's manor __there __is quite gorgeous in the summer."_

_Belle's bottom lip began a fine tremble, hearing him refer to their upcoming marriage as nothing but a tactical arrangement. She was sure they had been in love. He'd always been so charming, so alluring, what happened to change this? "B-but I love you."_

_This seemed to surprise him, startling him from his toying with her brown tresses. When he glanced back to her face and saw the open anguish shining in her amber eyes, he grimaced __unkindly__. "Love. This was never about love. Love belongs in child faerie tales and women's __novels__. __This was always about business. I need to marry and produce an heir and your family needed the financial support." The blonde man leaned in close, nuzzling sweetly against Belle's soft cheek in a mock affectionate kind of way. "If it makes you feel any better, of my prospects I chose YOU. Besides your family's assets you really are the most beautiful __woman__I have ever laid eyes on, truly befitting of your name, if not a __bit__ too prudish for my tastes. We will produce a __most __dashing Pureblooded son together, darling, and I do so want to keep the line going strong. Remember love, a Malfoy always gets what a Malfoy wants. Now gather yourself and we will meet at the Manor for that toast." _

_He punctuated his words with a kiss, a touch on the sloppy side and __while __that normally would have thrilled her down to her toes __it__ now just made her stomach churn knowing where those lips were only moments before. Belle allowed him to excuse himself to head back to their party, her head spinning from her world being turned on its head in a mere manner of __minutes__. The feelings within her were conflicted, she loved him, she truly did – even after this betrayal she somehow still felt for him. She could not deny, however, the __anger growing within her the more she was able to replay the scandalous interlude in her head. He was right, her family did need his, she knew that from the beginning, but she was certain that they had created something more between them – she was POSITIVE. _

_His harsh words swirled around and around in her ears, his cold tone evident and mocking. Belle was not good with her temper, she could be quite the hot headed witch when it came to blows and it seemed that this was enough to draw her from her previously well maintained control. Withdrawing her wand from a pocket within her furred cloak, she gripped the flexible wood in her hand, roving her thumb over the intricately carved vines in a soothing kind of way. Her lip curled __away from her teeth__ in a feral sneer, the heat of her fury seeping into her limbs and overflowing into the air around her otherwise demure figure. __Belle's __magic__ rolled off her in waves, crackling into the air __and manifesting as arcing tendrils of lightning that licked the nearby trees and bushes along the path and turned the surrounding snow into melted slush. __H__er feet moved of their own accord hitting solidly on each stone __leading back toward the Manor with a white knuckled grip on her wand. _

_The only clarity she had past the haze of rage coloring her vision was the singular __vengeful__ thought: _

_A Malfoy _**_gets_**_ what a Malfoy _**_deserves_**_._

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

Hermione snapped upright from her dream as the waves of sorrow and familiar pang of rejection tugged unsettlingly at her chest, instantly losing her balance and sliding unceremoniously off her couch. Her head whipped about in the dimly lit room trying to remember what happened and where she was, eventually identifying the familiar surroundings of her flat. Rubbing at her eyes, she made to pick herself up off the floor, untangling her legs from the thin fleece blanket that she had hunkered down under. A soft thunk sounded when she was finally on her feet again and she glanced about until she found the dark outline of the diary she fell asleep reading again last night. Retrieving the book, Hermione moved her tiny Muggle sticky note from the front cover to roughly the spot she thought she left off in the journal the night before and collapsed back onto the cushions.

Stretching with a resounding series of pops coming from her legs, arms, and back, the witch sighed heavily having not slept well at all on her modestly sized sofa. She leaned her head back against the headrest and spared a glance at the mantel clock seeing it was nearly 6AM now. She made another inarticulate noise, greatly resisting throwing a childish tantrum at the fact she had to be up in another half hour for work. Ever since she opened this curious journal five nights ago, she'd been having strange dreams and couldn't sleep through the night. Hermione knew that they were important dreams, _detailed dreams_, but try as she might, whenever she woke up she could only remember the barest of snippets.

The text was written in French, a very old, very unblemished version of the language so some of the translations were slow going, but all in all it was coming along. She was certain that this was the key to solving Draco's family curse. The journal was so obviously infused with magic since even after all this time it held an energy and almost a personality all of its own. At first when she would pick up the leather bound pages it felt as though the object would crackle and buzz at her in protest but it quickly calmed this reaction after a few times and now she noticed nothing whenever she went to turn a page or set it aside for the occasional break.

While the other journals she had first been investigating were very strictly recollections, almost University level dissertations, specifically about the qualities and characteristics of the curse and proposed solutions, this piece of writing was most blatantly a woman's diary. Between what remained of the floral patterns decorating the exterior of it and the delicate, loopy words about the handsome men at court filling each piece of parchment, it was obvious. The pages were dated sparingly in the beginning but a little further in, as the writing matured some, the author began to record them at the beginning of each entry. The first dated entry was at least a dozen or so pages in and was for 14 February 1739.

Hermione followed the events in the diary with avid attention. She'd never been the kind of woman to really enjoy a great deal of 'girl talk' or romantically geared stories, but she couldn't deny the intrigue of reading about this mysterious woman's observations of the men of the time and about one in particular who, from her descriptions, fit the traditional Malfoy characteristics _perfectly_. Upholding her title as brightest witch of her age, she easily surmised that this journal had to have belonged to one of the early Malfoy's wives, evidently before she knew about the curse on their blood. It was the only thing that made sense as to why a woman's diary would have been filed with all the other documents in the Malfoy family home – she had to have some relation to them.

If she was correct about it – and she was almost positive she was – then that could help them date the age of the curse and once they had a better idea of its exact origins, they could scour the family history to try and discover the original witch and wizard who started this whole ordeal and thereby opening the way to figuring a counter curse! The only infuriating thing about this diary was that it was aggravatingly devoid of _names_. There would be plenty of retellings about interactions on any given day: a witch who got under her skin, the young lord that noticed her attendance at their family's holiday ball, devious stories of wishful thinking about forbidden rendezvous with said lord...oh there was quite a bit of that from what she had deciphered so far but no NAMES. Hermione thought back to when she kept diaries in her younger years and, though she did so sparingly, she supposed she understood it. She never expected such a thing to forever remain a secret as it was supposed to, so if there was anything deviant she dared to put on paper, she would either use code names for them or omit their proper titles altogether so that if anyone were to happen upon the private writings they would still be unable to make out what it was that she was going on about.

So far, the woman in the book has only referred to the young Malfoy in pet names: beau, sweetheart, darling and some other nonsense. The last that she read the night before was of the announcement of her engagement to her _beau_ and where it briefly mentioned that they would honeymoon at one of her family's vineyards practically overlooking the Gironde – that entry was listed just after the turn of the new year. She skimmed through the several paragraphs that babbled on about wedding plans and venues and other such trivial things but when she still failed to mention the man's name, Hermione grew irritated and decided to rest her eyes for just a few minutes...and subsequently nodded off.

_'So close, yet so far...'_ The witch lamented to herself about how much of nowhere she had gotten so far with what is probably the most promising piece of text either of them have found yet. Hermione rubbed at her eyes again, scowling at the clock face over her fireplace and deciding she would get up...in five more minutes. The lack of sleep was definitely starting to get to her and she figured she really _should_ tell Malfoy about the diary. She was supposed to meet with him tomorrow at lunch to go over the date she'd arranged for this afternoon, she would bring the book and tell him then. Yes. That seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea.

Hermione's lips turned downwards in a pronounced grimace thinking of the witch Draco was to see today. What was her name again? Marina? What a ridiculous name. Who names their daughter that _really? _There were certainly much better names for a woman: Eliana, Rose, Lily..._Hermione_. She huffed, a strange feeling roiling in her at the mental projections her overactive imagination was providing for of the two of them together having a grand old time, laughing, touching, kissing. Stopping her thoughts there very abruptly, Hermione loosed an unattractive snort and pulled her blanket over her head, intent on sleeping in just a little – she always got to work very early anyway, she could spare a few more minutes at least.

**_Wednesday, January 31, 2001 – 12:15PM_**

Draco eyed his pocket watch again for at least the 10th time in the last 15 minutes. She was late. His date was late. Herm—_Granger_ had told him to be there at noon to meet his date, Marina, at this Italian place for lunch. Draco wasn't worried about being stood up, far from it, who really stood up a Malfoy anyway? Even now, if you did any kind of business with him, you knew better than to present such a sloppy impression such as being late to a _scheduled_ meeting. Apparently his date didn't know that. He slipped the watch back in his pocket and took a sip from his glass of water drumming the fingers of his free hand on the table with obvious impatience. He resolved to give her 5 more minutes and as though perfectly on cue a buxom blonde woman caught his eye and made her way to his table.

The woman appeared a little taller than Granger, slender but not fit looking as though she'd never seen a day of work in her life, most likely she hadn't. She strut towards him with a suggestive sway of the hips pinned in a tightly fitted and long sleeved navy blue dress, a borderline hideous and poorly matched stole adorned her shoulders for an added bit of warmth. Her skin was light, lips painted with a dramatic red shade and far too much blush on the apples of her cheeks, from what he could see beyond the extensive amount of eyeliner and shadow her eyes were a dull gray, and her stringy blonde hair was done up in a fancy bun with a tiny blue hat perched atop it. Draco arched a brow but rose from his seat anyway when she approached him, deftly eying her blonde hair in a suspicious kind of way.

"Draco Malfoy," the woman smiled slyly at him, allowing him to take one of her hands and brush his lips across the back of its knuckles in a more cordial greeting.

"Lady Marina Sokolov I presume?" Draco's eyes swept over the woman, taking her in with a subtle sort of skepticism. "I didn't recognize you at first, you look differently from your photo."

"Oh that," she tutted gaily and took the proffered seat he held out for her, handing him the stole from around her shoulders in the process. "It's a recent change, brown is such a drab color, I wanted to liven it up a bit! How does it go? 'Blondes have more fun' or whatall. You should know that already, right?"

"Certainly." He took her stole and draped it across the back of her chair, offering her a charming smile but allowing it to fall off his face as soon as she turned back to their table with a roll of his eyes.

Draco knew he'd only given Hermione the files of brunette witches so the blonde hair topping her head threw him at first. He wasn't fond of women that felt the need to alter their appearances for whatever reason and it was an immediate turn off, that and the fact she was almost 20 minutes late gave her two strikes so far. Draco retook his seat across from the woman who still had that wide cherry red smile plastered to her face expectantly. This was going just swimmingly so far.

"So, Malfoy," she addressed him forwardly, leaning towards him with her elbows on the table, "What's this about?"

Taking a sip of water he focused on the way the points of her elbow puckered the bright white tablecloth beneath them, "Well, what did Granger tell you?"

Marina sat back again, clasping her hands in front of her now, "My father was contacted by a missive from the Ministry requesting a meeting. From what _he_ told me, he spoke with the witch and she'd said you were looking to arrange a marriage! I have to say, Malfoy, it's a little late in the game to be arranging nuptials for you – and by a Mudblood, no less? What's really going on?"

Draco's eye twitched at the way the witch spoke of Granger...at the way she spoke at all – like they were old chums. And in public, to boot. He barely restrained himself from defensively pointing out the fact that, granted, it was late for him to arrange a marriage, but she apparently was still single and free as well and wasn't much younger than he.

He held no true fondness for the Muggle-born witch, that's what he told himself anyway, but she was brilliant and despite her temporary probation, was otherwise one of the most accomplished individuals employed with the Ministry. True, she was Muggle-born but she was also the smartest witch he'd come to know and loathe personally. She soared well above and beyond all of their classmates despite not only having the disadvantage of not even knowing that magic existed until she got her Hogwarts letter and therefore not having any slight bit of a chance of understanding it prior to that point, she continued to excel while prats like himself made her school life a living hell and she went on ridiculous adventures with Potter and the Weasel AND still got _ALL _of the three's collective homework done in a pinch. Not to mention she kind of had a large part in saving the entire wizarding world from the eventual rule of one supremely crazy Dark Lord as well as saved himself from a life in prison – yes, Hermione Granger was **_kind of a big deal_**.

With Kingsley having taken the reigns as Minister it wasn't made completely taboo to voice the derogatory terminology but it was nowadays largely frowned upon and most people and establishments no longer stood for it. While Draco understood the Pureblood views intimately, he found the blatant disregard for the previous facts and the presumption that he was of the same exact opinions just ignorant regardless of how true or false the latter may have been.

He offered her another smile, "That would be the case actually. As my parents are unavailable for the task at hand and I have been quite busy with the family business, I've enlisted the assistance of the most accomplished employee they had to provide me to set out some dates with witches such as yourself to bring a _modern_ twist – if you will – to the whole arranged marriage task."

The woman chortled, one hand to her chest and the other reaching across the table to rest lightly over one of his own. "_Most accomplished employee!_ Oh Draco, you're simply hilarious! It must've been a slow kind of Wednesday morning when you sent the request for that one in, eh?"

Draco twitched again.

_Strike three._


	13. Chapter 12 - The Braggart

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

* * *

_**Thursday, February 1, 2001 – 11:45AM**_

Draco entered the cafe in a Muggle part of town for his lunch appointment with Hermione dressed in the most casual suit he felt willing to wear out in public with The Daily Prophet's photographers lurking around all corners – even the non-magic kind. He considered himself lucky that he'd avoided them for the better part of yesterday's horrible adventure with them having missed most of the afternoon's festivities.

To say he was nervous would be an understatement. He realized that at some point, he would need to see the witch again if he were to keep her on as his caseworker but he had not realized the level of anxiety lying in wait to show itself for the actual day. He was about to tug his watch from his pocket to check when he would be due to expect her when a blur of motion a few booths down caught his eye. There she sat, already waiting with two glasses of water on the tabletop, one of them halfway drained, waving him over.

She was seated on the side of the booth facing the door and the first thing he noticed, even from afar, was that she looked exhausted. Her skin, last he saw it, had a slight warm tan to it but today it seemed paler than usual, at least to the point where he could see the beginnings of dark smudges under her eyes. Granger's hair was piled haphazardly atop her head for an almost stylishly messy look that was simply hers. Draco's eyes scanned down her neck, resting at the juncture of her neck and shoulder where he'd marked her over a week ago and noted that the flesh had returned to its relatively normal shade save for a bit of yellowing around the edge where his teeth had very nearly punctured the skin. A flash of a thought of marking her again with her bent over the cafe table, him buried in her from behind, flitted through his vision and made his nether regions stir. He swallowed and stepped quickly to meet her before the tent in his slacks became noticeable. '_Fucking keep it together, Draco.'_

Hermione watched the wizard approach swiftly, still amazed that he'd so easily agreed to the French themed cafe a little ways down from where her flat was located. She was sure asking Malfoy to a Muggle restaurant would be like trying to get a cat to swim, but he didn't seem bothered by the arrangement at all. Such a curious man. She offered a cordial and welcoming smile to him as he approached, secretly appreciating the way his clothing always seemed to fit _so well_. Hermione knew she probably looked a hot mess, having been unable to sleep more than a few hours each night ever since opening that journal. She brought it with her to show him what could very well be their shining light in the sea of darkness that was this case so far but as he closed in, her mind drifted from her well planned out itinerary and hazed over thinking about the way his tailored shirt and jacket hugged closely to what she knew were hard planes of lean muscle beneath the fabric.

The witch felt a budding heat in her lower belly and chest, shifting embarrassedly at the growing moisture between her legs. She cleared her throat to shake herself from her own thoughts, "Morning, Malfoy."

Flashing her a familiar smirk as he seated himself across from her at the table for two he willed his normal sarcasm to the surface to cover his anxiousness at her nearness. "Morning. Why so early, Granger? Couldn't wait to see me again for round two?"

Hermione gave him an incredulous look to hide the rosy coloring to her cheeks and controlled the tiny upturn of her lips, "Clearly. That's why I've been so happily avoiding you for the past week: because I missed your shining disposition. And _three_ is the correct count if you'd ever bothered to learn how."

_'Ah, familiar territory.' _The pair thought in unison.

"I hope it wasn't too difficult for you to find this place."

Draco peered at her over his laminated menu with a faintly amused look on his face, "With your impeccable step-by-step...by-step-by-step-by-step directions, how could I get lost?"

She rolled her eyes, "Well pardon me, but I didn't want you to get turned around. It's not as though you could just whip out your wand and wave it about to right yourself in _this _part of town."

A clearing of a throat at their sides drew both of their attentions and Hermione blinked up to see their waiter looking at her with a barely controlled smirk on his face. Hermione's face reddened at how her most recent statement probably sounded to the Muggle man and suddenly she found the print on her menu very interesting.

Draco blinked curiously between Granger and the crisply dressed man to his left, clueless as to what he just missed – must've been a Muggle thing.

The man introduced himself to the two as Benjamin and presented a well used pad of paper and a pen, "Ready to order?"

Both of them nodded, Draco folded his menu politely and waited with clasped hands for Hermione to order. When a few seconds of awkward silence stretched out between them, he nudged her leg under the table with his own, snapping her attention up from perusing desserts with a faint look of irritation.

"What?" she hissed.

Draco just responded by raising his eyebrows expectantly and motioning his head to their waiter who now turned his attention to the witch with a well practiced and patient smile cemented on his face.

Hermione blinked a few times, mouth finally falling open in realization, "O-oh! I'm sorry." She laughed apologetically, not used to her male dining company bothering to observe any state of propriety and let her order first. She placed her order with the young man, blushing prettily when he made a good humored joke about her dazed state.

The blonde watched this second exchange between the two, eyes narrowed this time at the woman's reaction to their waiter. A funny feeling welled in his chest at seeing her giggling with the help, one he wasn't terribly interested in exploring further at the moment. When it was his turn, Draco ordered his meal with a scowl.

Hermione studied Draco's frowning face after the other man left with some self-satisfied amusement evident in his stride, "What's wrong with you now?"

"Nothing." He snapped.

"Really? Because you look as though you've just smelled a particularly rotten egg." She snorted at the look he shot her then and shook her head. "So anyway, down to business. First, how was the date with that _Marinda_ woman?"

"_Marina,_" he corrected, "And it was bloody awful."

Hermione seemed surprised. On paper the woman looked like she would've fit at least a handful of his preferred traits. She'd reviewed her academic testing scores and while not at the very top of her class, she was no slouch for her year. Her lineage, for the short portion she investigated, was immaculate by Pureblood's standards and her family was decently well off with some kind of foreign trade business the woman's father had explained to her in a bit more detail that she really only paid enough attention to in order to nod and smile through it to get him out of her office.

"I don't understand, she looked like a decent enough candidate for you."

"For what _you_ think I'm looking for."

"What? What are you talking about? You gave me a list and I stuck to it. I didn't make any kinds of assumptions." She afforded him an affronted expression.

"Bloody hell you didn't!"

"Malfoy!" she shushed him, glancing around to see if anyone had been disturbed by his little outburst. "Keep your voice down! I just picked from your stack of rich little _princesses_ and narrowed it down like you said to do according to that ridiculous list you gave back to me. What, was her _tit_ size insufficient?"

"Shh!" It was his turn to chastise her volume. "And that's exactly what I'm talking about!" He pointed at her accusingly.

"What? What now? What have I done incorrectly for you _now_?"

They found each other nearly nose to nose over the table, their row just at the edge of escalating to an inappropriate noise level for a public setting, when that same masculine clearing of a throat happened to their sides once again.

The pair looked up to see the waiter having returned with their lunch orders in hand, that same smile still sitting on his face – it made Draco scowl even harder than before. Placing Hermione's plate first then Draco's, the young man straightened again, "Everything look good? Did you need anything else at the moment?"

Hermione glanced to her blonde companion then her plate and finally back to the man, a pleasant smile replacing her previous face. "Looks great, thank you Benjamin."

Draco noticed how the man brightened when she addressed him. His lips drew back in a small sneer and he didn't shift his attention from the witch in front of him, "Yes _Benjamin,_ everything looks excellent."

At his tone, Hermione turned back to face Malfoy to find him glaring at her with a look very close to the kind she always saw stuck to his pompous features all those years ago. Sensing the building tension between the two, the waiter excused himself politely and practically fled the couple's presence for the moment.

When the coast was clear once again, Hermione glowered at him, "What the hell is your problem?"

"Not a thing. Now if you could stop making moon eyes at our server we can continue our conversation."

She scoffed, "Jealous Malfoy? And if I recall we weren't having a conversation, we were having an argument about _your_ lists."

"Wrong. It was about all the inferences you're making about _my lists._"

"What inferences? You laid out all your preferences quite clearly, right down to their _tits._" She said the word again distastefully and her sneer rivaled his own. The volume from their heated exchange was beginning to draw a few glances their way.

"Then why was my first date campaigning for 'snottiest bint of the wizarding world'? I'm fairly positive I didn't include **that** on my list of positive traits."

"Well I'm sorry if I can't tell from a stack of papers if they're 'snotty' or not! You would think you'd be used to that kind of behavior with your upbringing though anyway!"

"There you go again!" Draco growled, sticking a finger in her face, "Look, I may have been a right pillock in school, but in case _you_ haven't noticed, I've been working very hard to make some changes in my associations. If someone like you can't get past _your_ prejudices about me, then what good is any of it going to do?!"

"Wh-what? I don't have prejudices against you!" Hermione protested, completely appalled by the suggestion.

"Oh really? Then why did you automatically think I'd have trouble with you picking a Muggle restaurant to meet at?"

"That wasn't prejudice! That was just-"

"Presumptuous?" He offered.

"_Courteous preventative measures._" She amended tartly.

"Right. And the reason you picked the wealthiest witch from the stack for a first date was _courteous preventative measures_ for all those Galleons that I don't give a damn about acquiring?"

"I-I just thought-"

"You just _thought_ that all Purebloods think and act the same way and are devoid of any kinds of sensible human emotions. While I won't deny what you've been through the past years, especially during the war, argues heavily for just that, I would've thought you had more sense than that! _Especially_ after how you spoke at my trial!"

Hermione was completely taken aback. She immediately wanted to retort with another snappy reason that he was absolutely wrong except for the fact that he wasn't. At all.

If she were being honest with herself, yes, she had a very preconceived and mostly negative notion about the families she knew were once more fond of the purist Pureblood ways, with the Malfoys probably being the most notable lot in her mind. She pegged herself as extremely open-minded, what with her tendency towards supporting all these crazy little activist groups floating about, that she never once considered that she had created a mental box for "them" in her head and she was content to leave them there forever stuck as the cruel, snotty, overly entitled families that they were in the war, never once truly giving a chance for them to show changes like Draco had been working towards. She did see him making these changes, reaching out to people and races the Malfoys never would've been caught dead with before and yet she hadn't seen fit to really take her own thoughts to heart and realize that he was carving his own path to being a better man.

She searched for words but only ended up being able to stammer out a lame apology. "I...y-you're right Malfoy. I apologize. I never really looked at it in that way before. I suppose it's been a little difficult for me to think past..." She rubbed absently at her left forearm where that hateful word was still scrawled into her flesh, healed over into an ugly looking puckering of flesh – a brand. "Well...it doesn't matter now. I'm sorry, Malfoy."

"It's fine." Draco had settled down enough now to just have a small grimace on his face, more to do with his own recollection of the scar he saw her fidgeting with than anything else of the moment. "Just do me a favor and look at the next ones differently."

"You still want me to arrange more dates?" She didn't bother hiding her surprise.

Draco shrugged, "Might as well for right now. I haven't made a lot of progress finding another way and I'd like to try marrying a witch I won't throttle within moments of taking my vows if I have to do this rubbish at all."

"Alright. I will pull the information on the others you gave me and see if I can eliminate any other candidates with what I have access to." Hermione paused, hesitant to put forward the idea that was wriggling around in her head for a little while now. "Did you...did you want to look them over with me?"

"With you? I thought you told me the additional files weren't public access when I asked about it the other day."

"Well...they're not."

Draco studied her carefully, measuring what exactly she was playing at. "Granger. Are you offering to break the rules?"

"It's not breaking, it's _bending_." She sat straighter in her seat immediately ready to launch into a rather animated explanation, "They aren't public access, but you've enlisted Ministry assistance and I'm accessing them as your caseworker. Since their contents directly affects aspects of the case I have been assigned to – i.e. _Yours – _and to come to a resolution of this particular situation the input about this information from the client – i.e. _You_ – would expedite the process and thereby release the Ministry worker from further contractual obligations and as such free said worker to take on additional cases to prevent bottle necking the Ministry's workload in the department, it's perfectly acceptable for you to review the other files with me. See? _Bending_."

"Be still my beating heart." He mumbled sarcastically but couldn't help the grin on his face. "I think I'm rubbing off on you."

"Ugh, please don't say _that_. We were just starting to get along." She failed to hide the cheekiness bleeding into her tone.

"_Hag._" He smirked.

"_Prat._" She grinned.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow is good."

Business settled, they finished the rest of their lunch in an odd kind of companionship that neither would ever have suspected could be possible between them. The banter was good, the food was good, the service was good – all things considered, it was a rather delightful lunch. Hermione found herself feeling the best she did in days just at his company and unbeknownst to her, Draco did as well.

The only other conflict that remained was when Draco snatched the bill up before Hermione could even touch it. She had automatically assumed Draco would be utterly boggled by the Muggle currency so expected to pick up the tab and when he insisted, pulling out the appropriate amount of _Muggle _money for the food and gratuity for the both of them, she was stunned because: 1. he was apparently more familiar with quite a few things outside of wizarding Britain than she realized or gave him credit for, and 2. he paid for her meal with nary a second thought like the old fashioned gentleman he was raised to be.

They parted ways at the apparation point away from prying eyes, him swirling through the void back to the Manor to work on some upcoming event plans and her back to a spot just around the corner from her apartment building so she could run upstairs to grab the rest of the files she'd left in her living room and floo to the Ministry from the connected fireplace in her Muggle flat. It wasn't until she was seated once again at her office desk that she realized she never discussed the journal with him at all. She got so distracted by their chatting it somehow had completely slipped her mind. '_Ah well...I'll see him tomorrow..._'

**__****Thursday, February 1, 2001 – 6:00PM**

_Knock knock!_

Hermione looked up from her work perusing Malfoy's pros and cons list at the noise then to her small desk clock. "Come in."

Her face immediately fell when she saw who was on the other side. A very tall, very fit, athletic, and unfortunately, very familiar man entered her office with a confident smile on his haughty looking face. He looked not all that much different from their days at school: pale skin, dusty colored hair cut closely to his head but still finding a way to curl, snotty little grin turning the corner of his mouth up at the side. "McLaggen. What a surprise. What on earth are you doing here past quitting time?"

"Delivering files of course!" He brightened and waggled a thick sealed envelope at her slamming the door carelessly behind him.

"Deliveries? I thought you were working with the Aurors..." '_On the other side of the building..._'

"Oh I am! Well...I'm just helping out with some things in records for a few weeks and this request came across. I figured I hadn't spoken with you in quite a time and thought I'd make it an excuse to stop in so you could enjoy my charming smile." He grinned more widely at his joke.

Hermione's stomach turned but she offered him a forced smile in return.

"Yes, I do recall it's been a little while..." That was quite on purpose on her part considering the last time he tried to speak with her was after she broke it off with Ron and he was very insistent that a night on the town with no strings attached would be a soothing remedy for what ailed her. She had since rebuffed several other of his attempts to get in her knickers – some attempts more blatant than others – yet he still kept showing up. A thick one, that one.

McLaggen strutted up to her desk, envelope tucked under one arm, and perched himself on its edge angled toward her. He plucked one of the dainty candies from the dish on her desk and made open and inappropriate eye contact, eating the chocolate in a manner Hermione could only guess he assumed was sexy and sensual – it just reminded her of the awful 'Slug Club Christmas Party' debacle and made her want to vomit in her mouth...just a little.

"Your files milady," he waggled his eyebrows at her speaking around a full mouth and chuckled as he handed over the envelope, clearly extremely pleased at his cleverness.

"Thank you..." Hermione kept her smile plastered to her face as long as she could muster and examined the tan and bulky parcel he handed her. Across the front was stamped 'CONFIDENTIAL' and the leaf of the envelope had an unbroken Ministry wax seal indicating that this came directly from records. She checked the little lines on the back of it that indicated who the request was made by and who it was filled by and when, releasing a breath of relief when she saw that Cormac's initials were NOT anywhere on it.

"So, Hermione, who're _you _taking to the ball?"

She startled out of her examination and shot him a confused look, "What ball?"

Cormac rolled his eyes playfully and nudged her arm from across the desk then turned his attention to fiddle with the few knick-knacks she kept on it. "The Valentine's ball of course. The one The Ministry has _every year_? Come now, pet, you haven't forgotten about it already, have you?"

She did. On purpose.

Hermione's eye twitched at the term of endearment. "Ah. That. I'm not going. Too much work to do."

"Oh pish tosh. I'm sure you're leaps and bounds ahead of wherever you need to be on whatever case it is you're working on. What is it this time by the way? Unicorn negotiations? Satyr housing? _Pixie politics?_" He chortled and plucked a handful of candies this time, flashing her his best handsome smile.

"Yes...sure, all of the above." She followed everything he did with her eyes, watching all the little things she had adorning the top of her desk being fiddled with and moved about out of their proper places with a growing irritation and desire to toss the wanker out of her office forcibly. "So you see, much too much work to do."

"_Hermione_," he said her name with an unwelcome familiarity, "It's just a day. Certainly you can take _one_ day to enjoy yourself? They're even letting us all out of here early so we can go home, get changed, and party well into the night!"

"Unfortunately, I can't spare the time. Also, it's in the middle of the week, an awful time to schedule a party anyway."

Cormac pushed off from her desk and made to idly wander about her office, touching _everything_ with his candy coated fingers and completely missing the woman's appalled face as she created an itemized list of all of her possessions that would need to be scourgified.

"Well it's mandatory anyway, so you'll have to come."

"Wh-what?! How can they make a _ball_ mandatory?"

He shrugged, "Good enough question, but I couldn't tell you. The mandate came out this morning, haven't you seen it?"

"No...no I haven't. I have been a bit preoccupied all day." Hermione buried her face in her hands, rubbing away her exhaustion that was making its reappearance thanks to the man before her and the news that she's essentially been ordered to have fun via an interdepartmental mandate.

"So, who are you going with then?"

'_Not _**_you_**...' She groaned, "I'm not sure, McLaggen. I honestly hadn't thought about it at all until you mentioned it just now."

At that he sauntered over to her and smiled boastfully, "Ah, well I'm still free if you want. We'd be the _belles of the ball_ as the sexiest couple in attendance. Not like there would be much competition though anyway. I mean the only others in the running would probably be Potter and Weasley – the female one that is, and that's just because he's still got quite the reputation. Ron and Lav will be attending as well if I heard correctly, but they're really no match for the likes of us together. The only other I could think of would be Malfoy and whichever one of his dozens of lady friends he's apt to bring. Hell, if it didn't have just a plus one on our invites he would probably bring them all!" McLaggen paused only to laugh at his own joke.

Hermione was interrupted out of the comfortable massaging of her temples when she realized what he'd said. "Wait, Malfoy is going to this thing? Draco Malfoy? How is he even _invited_ to a closed Ministry event? They didn't make it public this year, did they?"

Still coming down off his joking high, Cormac shook his head. "No, he was supposed to appear as a speaker of some sort." He leaned in conspiratorially, "Supposedly he has had a part in funding some of the departments here. Expansions, research, you know, that sort of thing. Anyway! I'm off for the night, sweetheart, think about my offer!"

Thankfully, the other man made to excuse himself, but not before giving her a wink and a little affectionate tap on the tip of her nose. Hermione's face broke out into a disgusted glower when she felt the pad of his sticky finger adhere to her skin for just a moment before releasing – he didn't notice of course. At the sound of her office door slamming obnoxiously, _again_, she growled to herself and hurriedly packed up her belongings along with the newly delivered files, grumbling all the way to the Atrium in a not-at-all-pleased fashion.


	14. Chapter 13 - The File

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** I apologize, the next couple are going to be a bit short but they're where things made the most sense to stop on either chapter. I'm still trying to write to be two chapters ahead of the currently published one just so not everything is so raw and in the minute so I have more...I am just trying to meter it out. For current chapters I'm writing and future ones, I will be trying to make them a bit longer. Also, thank you all for sticking with it, we are about to get into the meat of it for those of you playing along. As always, read and review as you so choose and I appreciate your support. :)

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**__****Friday, February 2, 2001 – 8:00AM**

Yelling. She was yelling. Why was she yelling again? He couldn't remember, but she was yelling.

"Granger.."

"-estly, how could you fail to mention-"

"..Granger..."

"Furthermore!-"

"_GRANGER!_"

"WHAT?"

"Stop yelling."

"I'M NOT," cough, "I'm _not_ yelling. I am demanding an explanation as to why you completely failed to mention the fact that you are attending our Ministry Valentine's Day ball with one of your choices of arm candy while _I'M_ working my arse off to try and find you a solution to your _beastly_ little problem."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her poor taste in humor, not finding it funny at all but he was too tired to say much about it. He had a rough night with the beast, roaming all around the woods on the Malfoy grounds hunting and giving a good stretch to his massive limbs. The monster was becoming rowdier each night and it was starting to affect him during the day. He'd read of the side effects of the changes the longer they went on and loathed to find himself afflicted by them only barely a month after the onset of the curse. His hearing was definitely more sensitive already along with his sense of smell and predilection for meat. He noticed the smattering of unwelcome baser thoughts creeping into the back of his mind as well. The most prominent one right now was the one telling him he should get the witch in front of him on her hands and knees and rip her pencil skirt and knickers away to take her at _least_ twice then catch a nap with her stretched out in the sunlight from the nearby bay windows and when she would wake up with him pressed against her behind they could have another go.

_Didn't he tell her to wear something ugly the next time she came over?_

"Granger," he said again, turning to walk away from her fuming, skirt suit clad self and shuffle into the dining room to have himself a late breakfast, "I said I was going to that sometime late last year before all of this decided to happen. I've really no intention of still showing up now. Particularly because the festivities aren't due to really start until the late evening and I'd rather not eat the guests."

Hermione gawked at his retreating back and swiftly followed after, dropping her belongings on one of the sitting room's sofas on the way. "Last year? Just how long have you been investing in things at The Ministry?"

"Does it really matter?"

"It does to me!" She finally caught up to him after he entered the dining area seeing that she evidently interrupted his meal.

Operating still on auto-pilot Draco stifled a yawn and pulled out one of the chairs for Hermione to sit in, allowing her to awkwardly settle before completing his shuffle to the other side of the table to reclaim his own seat. "Did you want anything?"

She shook her head stubbornly, declining his offer of food this time. "Just for you to answer my question...please," the witch added the last as an afterthought.

"Whatever," he sighed, "I wouldn't call it investing as much as I would call it reparations."

"Reparations?"

"That's what _I_ would call it. Of course _they_ don't call it that." He explained between chewing and swallowing bites of food, "Despite what decisions were made and announced to the press about mother and I being let off the hook, there were still underlying conditions. The fine print, if you will. In fact, many of my 'investments' are really just reparations with a pretty name placed on it."

"So...then you're not really behind most of these charities and things I keep seeing your name on in the paper?"

Draco looked up from where he'd been poking at his eggs, hearing what he thought was disappointment in her voice and finding the sudden urge to amend his last statement.

"They weren't at first. The Ministry, Hogwarts, Ollivanders, the memorials, they all needed money to rebuild and the easiest place for them to find it was by Ministry ruled access to the Malfoy vaults. It was nothing I was keen on at first but it was better than Azkaban by leaps and bounds."

Draco watched Hermione's guarded features as he retold the early days after his official pardon, she did well to wipe her emotions from her face but he could see in the fidgeting of her hands and how her gaze avoided looking his way she was uncomfortable with this less than selfless version of the story.

"Like I said, at first it wasn't my choice. I wasn't lying yesterday when I said I was working to change my associations though. Since initially being court ordered to supply funding for designated charities and reconstruction efforts, I've actually put more into them than required – the ones I feel would benefit most from it anyway. You'll find I'm an official partner with many of the organizations _now_."

She looked up at him then, surprised at his words and more so at how at ease he seemed in telling her this. Hermione didn't hold his eyes for long though and opted to instead focus on the plate of eggs and toast he was pushing around, having devoured his bacon and sausage and ham slices already – she should've said yes to the food.

Draco heard the rumbling of her stomach from across the table not sure if it was really that loud or if it was just him but he chuckled and nudged his plate towards her anyway, "I'm finished, if you'd like these. Or I can have one of the elves fix you your own."

"No, I'm fine, thank you." She shook her head adamantly, Hermione wasn't one to eat after people. ...not usually anyway, though she was pretty sure the toast had orange marmalade on it already...she loved orange marmalade... Her stomach growled again trying to weigh in on the decision as well.

"Granger! I can hear that gut of yours from here!" He pushed the plate fully in front of her then, "Don't make me come over there to feed you. Besides, if you don't eat it, it'll go to waste and all that hard work the elves put into it will have been for naught."

Hermione shot him a _look_, blatantly unhappy that he thought to bring the house elves into this at all. Ever since several laws she petitioned for were put into place, the servants became a protected race. She had waged to dissolve all ties of servitude for the poor creatures but was rather put out when she found that the vast majority of them sincerely _enjoyed_ serving their masters – it was just the punishments that were the problem. Ever the stubborn one, she lobbied for them to be protected under more humane laws through the Ministry and now the creatures that remained as servants were registered and 'tagged' – figuratively not literally – and monitored so if there was ever any abuse discovered or reported the families they worked for were fined and punished accordingly in way of liquidation of their assets in proportion to the offense.

Begrudgingly, Hermione snatched a piece of toast from the plate and took a small bite. Her eyelids fluttered shut, eyes rolled back and she hummed pleasantly at the taste of the marmalade – it had to be fresh by the sweetness of it. Draco watched her practically inhale the jam covered toast with a smirk, unable to help how his eyes focused on the shine of her bottom lip where the marmalade stubbornly stuck to the flesh there. His nostrils flared in anticipation for _something_ when her tongue swept a path over the plump pink skin to whisk the sweet substance away.

"Sorry Malfoy, do you have a cloth or something?"

Hermione was distracted by brushing the tiny bread crumbs off her suit, one hand held clean away from her jacket because she'd messed it with the jam. Her movements froze at the sudden feel of a warm grip encircling her wrist followed immediately by something warm and soft and wet raking its way up the length of her index finger. She found herself staring into silver eyes looking like they wanted to devour every inch of her. Hermione opened her mouth to say something but all that came out was a whimper, her tongue curling against the backs of her teeth when his hot mouth enclosed the sticky digit and he rumbled a pleasure filled growl. Her brain whirred into action calculating exactly how difficult it would be to leap across the dining table in the fitted skirt she had on today.

Draco lost himself momentarily, wallowing in the scent of the witch's natural pheromones falling from her skin and wafting his way. The taste of her flesh intermingled with the sweetness of the citrus and sugar was heavenly and he thought very clearly that he would like to be completely immersed in it. Drawn to it – _to her – _his body moved of its own accord, closing the gap between them by climbing across the table's surface in a predatory slink. Her wet, now thoroughly cleaned, hand snaked into his hair at the base of his neck and she tugged him forward until their foreheads and noses pressed together. Draco felt her excited pants, little puffs of orange scented breath, ghosting across his lips in anticipation.

A loud crash and clatter ripped them from their daze and from each other, realization swiftly sinking in. The pair looked at each other wide eyed, chests heaving, Draco on his hands and knees on the tabletop and Hermione kneeling on her chair's cushion to bring herself to his level. Hermione was the first to move, extracting her hand from his hair and busying herself with cleaning up the plate of food that'd fallen, all the while muttering apologies at her behavior.

Draco was slower to remove himself, forcing the instinct in him back down with relative success, although other parts of his anatomy weren't so easily wrangled. He scooted back off the table, leaning against it and rubbing the frustration from his face with both hands.

"This isn't going to work, is it?" His voice was muffled behind his palms.

Hermione resurfaced with a pile of little broken plate pieces and a smattering of egg bits she gathered from the floor. She was a delightful shade of red and shook her head at his back, "No. No I don't think it will." She sighed heavily, deposited the pile of shattered dish pieces and food onto the table and turned her back to him also copying his actions with her own hands, trying to drown out the feel of him nearby.

"I can leave the files here for you. Look through them and send me a list for the days and witches you want me to schedule the dates with, I will do the rest from there and owl you when it's complete."

"Right. Fine, sounds fine." It was certainly easier to speak with her when he couldn't see her enticing form, although he could still sense her unique fragrance behind him.

_'Merlin, how did animals do it_?!'

There were so many scents in the air, from the wood of the table to the cloth of the upholstery on the padded chairs and the remnants of meat still lingering about. Even still, he could easily pick her out from it all. That same scent as before of fresh linens tingled in his nose and calmed his senses, calmed his anxiety. It was like something else changed though; that floral scent from before was much more prominent reminding him of freshly bloomed roses and the thick, heady scent he'd previously linked to that of her arousal was painfully obvious. The latter even felt like it had an energy of its own and every time he drew in the aroma it tugged at primal chords within him and rang them like a bloody bell.

Hermione had to concentrate to calm her breathing, even separated by the table she felt a thrilling hum buzzing along her skin that made having all these clothes on decidedly _uncomfortable_. She was roasting! She just wanted to discard it all and climb onto his lap, sinking onto him fully with his teeth rolling her nipples between their sharpened points, his tongue laving the warm wet heat across the hardened and sensitive peaks, his nails digging into her back drawing thin red lines down the length of it, her own biting into his flesh as her back bowed and she rode him hard crying his name.

Yes. That would make her feel much _much _better.

She shuddered and let out a startled gasp of his name at the mental imagery and turned sharply to Draco who was watching her intently, nostrils flared and a low rumbling rolling through him. His fingers were digging harshly into the table and he looked like he was resisting pouncing on her – he probably was.

"I...I'm going to go."

Draco nodded, shoulders tense, muscles coiled and twitchy, "Yeah.."

"The files...I'll..I'll leave them on the sofa," she would have been embarrassed at how breathless she sounded if she wasn't so focused on trying to reign in her eyes as they wandered over his form, mentally discarding each and every piece of clothing he wore as she stumbled backwards out of the room. She was sure that if she turned her back on him to flee he would chase her and finally finish the dance that they started their first day here – the idea thrilled her to a frightening degree. She must have reflected the thought somehow in her face or mannerisms because he gripped at the table more firmly as it crossed her mind, his mouth pressed into a firm line of concentration.

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

Having made a swift exit, Hermione left him with the satchel she'd brought to retreat back to her office. She flooed in to the Atrium and hurried along to the confines of her private office, ignoring the handful of greetings she garnered on the way. Once safely inside, she secured the door and nearly collapsed to the floor against it, trying to calm her pattering heart and rapid breathing.

"Merlin, Hermione, this is ridiculous," she chastised herself and apparent lack of control she exhibited when in the same room with the younger Malfoy.

She was fine at lunch with him _just_ yesterday. Sure, she'd had a few impure thoughts during their business meeting, but it never became so overpowering when they were there. Hermione readjusted her position and was now sitting with her back against her door, legs stuck straight out in front of her, arms relaxed at her sides, and head lolling towards one of her shoulders. She sighed in exasperation, still feeling the pleasant clenching in her lower belly, the little trills of excited stirrings were making her want to pick herself up off the floor and march back into the Manor to free him of his clothing and do wicked, _wicked_ things to all of his manliest of pieces.

She not-too-forcefully thumped her head back against the door several times in frustration: since when was she ever so aggressive about sex anyway? Not even in her daydreams did they typically develop like this before. Certainly not with Draco Malfoy, of all people. There was something in the magic making her batty, maybe the house itself had a part to play in it. Surely she would be able to find more information if she just plowed on through the journal –

"_Shit!_" She'd left the damn thing in the bag she brought the files in...the bag still probably sitting on Malfoy's couch.

Hermione had a series of mental debates on why she should and shouldn't go back to the Manor to retrieve them. Her biggest argument that ended up as the top reasoning both _for_ and _against_ returning being how she was positive if she stepped a single foot back into the place right now she would demand he shag her violently against the nearest hard surface, making her throat go raw from pleasured cries, and turn her shoulder black and blue again with his rough claim to her flesh so that when she would move the bruised area it would send jolts of pain turned pleasure to a most intimate spot between her thighs and remind her of their primal coupling again and again and again...

No. She couldn't go back there, not right now anyway. Hermione needed to talk to him about the diary but she could barely get through a piece of toast in his presence this morning. She resolved to send him a message to have Corvus return it to her or perhaps arrange another meeting in public somewhere. Whichever way she decided, she needed a break from thinking about him – just a moment.

"_Hermione!_"

She frowned.

"_Oh, pet, you in there?_"

Her frown deepened. Hermione picked herself up off the floor, grumbling all the while, not even bothering to smooth her suit before cracking open the door. "McLaggen. Good morning, what can I do for you today?"

Not taking the hint at all, he pushed into her office, nearly causing the door to smack the witch clean in the face. "Oh, not a lot. I thought I saw you come in and realized that I'd forgotten to give you a notice from the records department yesterday! Of course I thought that I would take care of that business this morning and take a moment to chat you up, see if you'd given any thought yet to my offer."

Hermione rubbed at her collarbone where the door smacked into her in lieu of her face, shutting it once again. She revised her frown into a less obvious one, though Merlin knew why she bothered, the tosser didn't notice anything past his nose anyway. "You only just asked me last night...and what notice?"

Cormac handed over a much smaller sealed envelope than the one he provided her with last night, flopping into one of her guest chairs facing the large oaken desk. He propped his legs on the edge of the desk, crossing one over the other and folded his hands over his thighs to watch her open the note and the confused look appear on her face. "What is it?"

She shook her head, no intention of sharing its contents with him and placing it in her inner jacket pocket, "Nothing that makes sense. I'll have to look into this later. Thank you, for delivering this. Now if you'll excuse me-"

"Ahh, there's still the matter of the Valentine's event."

"I've already told you, I'm not going."

McLaggen caught her as she tried to scoot by him to seat herself behind her desk and tugged her down onto his legs, "Come on, Granger! Just think of it!"

Hermione stiffened at his contact, eyes catching fire as one of his arms hugged her to his chest and the other reached out in front of them as though he were framing a picture with his hand. If this were a Muggle job, she could report him to human resources...unfortunately, she found that certain departments like that were irritatingly nonexistent in the wizarding world. She'd already tried to get him fired at _least_ once before.

'_I will not kill McLaggen...I will not kill McLaggen..._'

"You. Me. The ball. The two prettiest people in the room. It was really meant to be! We can tell everyone that it was the start of our romance, truly. Who knows? A couple of months down the line, our wedding night, you wearing a racy little number and me wearing...well," he just chuckled and waggled his eyebrows a bit. "Our children would be exquisite, Hermione, really. With your brains and my natural athleticism and good looks-"

'_Their WEDDING night? UGH!'_ With barely contained aggression, Hermione shoved off the man, smacking away his hands when they tried to fetch her again. "Do you ever LISTEN to yourself when you speak, Cormac?"

He scoffed unperturbed and pushed off the seat, "Of course! All the time."

Hermione's jaw unhinged. '_Honestly, how thick could you get?_'

Before she got another chance to speak he encroached on her space bubble again and made a mock pinching of her cheek motion, with a little wink. "You're right though, of course. I'll come back later after you've had some more time to consider it!"

Mouth agape, the woman watched someone possibly more insufferable and infuriating than her childhood enemy strut out of her office. Hermione gave a derisive huff at his departure, locked her door and finally deposited herself into her desk chair. She actually had little else to do at the Ministry with the journal and the files at Malfoy's and the rest of the other journals at her flat but she really didn't think she could muster going to either place at the moment. Massaging her temples at the silliness of it all, she tugged the little note from earlier back out to examine it further, brows drawn in confusion once again.

**_Dear Ms. Hermione Granger,_**

**_Some of the records you have borrowed from The Ministry __of Magic__Department of __Demographics and Population are past due the agreed upon return date. Please continue to be advised that it is our policy to release records to approved individuals for a __standard number of 10 days only without prior approval. Our records show that the following item(s) have yet to be returned:_**

**_Requested By: Granger, Hermione J._**

**_Designated Clearance Level: Gold_**

**_File: Greengrass, Astoria – __2000 Census – Population Profile_**

**_Designated Clearance Level: Bronze_**

**_Requested By: Granger, Hermione J._**

**_Designated Clearance Level: Gold_**

**_File: Greengrass, Astoria – 1999 Academic Profile – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_**

**_Designated Clearance Level: __Silver_**

**_Please return the aforementioned item(s) as soon as possible to avoid escalated corrective actions __with your superior__. Thank you for your continued cooperation and compliance in this matter._**

**_Sincerely,_**

**_Gregory Hafner_**

**_Head Coordinator of Ministry Records_**

Hermione read and re-read the past due notice, confused at why she was getting this at all. She swore she returned all that she borrowed from her initial visit down to records just the other day; certain of it. She made a mental note to check at home this evening and then with Malfoy, just in case he forgot to return it to her as she needed to have it back before she ended up with another black mark after her name and a sudden end to her career.


	15. Chapter 14 - The Kissed

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** So, posting this chapter will actually put me behind where I want to be in my optimistic 2 chapter leads, but I wanted to get something else up for those of you that have been quite patient. It's not exactly what you all are looking for but I hope you'll enjoy it regardless. Having a little fun with plot development. Pretty much downhill from here on out. Please be reminded that we are still rated M, and enjoy.

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_Saturday, February 3, 2001 – 8:00PM_

Draco laid on the cold stone floor of the sitting room, naked, on his back, staring at the ceiling. He had a little time yet before he would prepare himself for the change. He could feel it at the edges of his thought now that he knew what to look for, creeping in little by little. His senses had become much sharper as he already noticed yesterday when Granger was in his dining room. He allowed only little lighting around him tonight, a smattering of candles here and there and the fire in the hearth was smoldering, but it was plenty, almost too much really. His eyes glinted in the dimness of the room where the flames reflected off of them and he could see as clearly as though it were dawn. Draco traced the paths of large dust particles floating through the air with a lazy gaze and sighed deeply in wait for the changes to begin again.

A crackle and pop sounded from the fireplace, catching his attention and Hermione's voice cut through the silence of the room. "Malfoy? Malfoy are you there?"

He blinked, chanced a look at the mantel clock then stared back to the barely there edges of her face formed by the ash and low flickering flames of the fire. "Granger," he found himself rolling to his hands and knees, crawling to address the fiery head, "What is it? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, yes, yes, I know! I'm sorry, I meant to try to contact you earlier but I got involved with something. This will only be a moment. I need to retrieve something I left there yesterday. It's part of my research on the curse, it will only take just _two_ seconds. Give me access to floo over, will you?"

Draco shook his head, "It'll have to wait, it's almost time. I'll let you over in the morning, but not right now."

"Malfoy this is important! I may very well have figured it out, but I need something that I left there yesterday to be sure. You're the one wasting time now! Just let me over _now_ before it gets any later."

He weighed the options in his head, it was a bad idea, a poor decision he knew but the longer he waffled back and forth about it, the worse the timing would be. He felt a familiar tug in his muscles, an ache in his neck, but he knew he still had time. If all she needed was to come over and leave, it surely wouldn't be a problem.

"_Fine_. Just one moment." Retrieving his discarded slacks, he tugged them on and granted access from Hermione's flat to the Manor. "Hurry up, you need to make it quick."

Only seconds later green flames flared to life in the previously quiet fireplace and the small witch stumbled through. Draco's jaw nearly unhinged when he took in the emerald slip she wore and how it barely came down to the tops of her thighs. The long line of her neck was exposed, the stretch of her pale skin only broken by a familiar looking lily pendant draped over her collarbone and nestling between the swell of her breasts and her unique perfumed aroma filled the air between them. She was barefoot and her hair a mess but the look on her face was one of her more studious ones. It certainly seemed as though she'd just removed her nose from any of her multitude of books to pause her research and come over.

"Where is it?" She looked around the immediate area of the sitting room in a rushed manner, "Come on, Malfoy, _where is it_?"

Draco was engrossed in his own study of her ass, round and delicious and peeking from beneath the skimpy satiny looking slip. Did she honestly sleep in that? He never would have figured the bookworm to have anything like that in her wardrobe. He peered at her trying to see what kind of knickers she was wearing underneath it all.

"Malfoy!" She hissed at him impatiently.

"Huh? Oh, I don't know where it is! I don't even know _what_ it is. What did you leave here?"

"The BOOK, Malfoy! The book! It's about this big, this thick, tan with little red splotches on it, a rose on the cover. It was in the bag with the files. Where is it?"

Draco watched her hurriedly miming the size description of the item she was looking for, more distracted by the way her chest jiggled under the deep green fabric covering her bosom as she gestured. "Book...I don't recall a...oh! Yeah I did see that actually."

He motioned her over to one of the curio cabinets in the room where he'd set everything on top of and snatched up the journal in question from the top of the pile. She immediately invaded his space and grabbed the book from his grasp, eagerly flipping the pages to a spot held with a little yellow sticky tab. Her finger scanned across the words on the page, avidly searching for something. Draco took the opportunity of her being so close and being distracted to openly stare down her negligee, delighting in the way he could see the plump roundness of her modest breasts, they looked cold...he could warm them up...

"What language is that writing?" He asked softly, too entranced by the heat that her small body was radiating and the way her chestnut curls fell over her shoulders while she flipped through the thing to notice his own temperature rising. The scent of fresh soap and shampoo floated into his nostrils, strong and clean, and his hand came up of its own accord, ready to brush a strand of the unruly hair behind her ear.

Hermione blinked up at him then, a funny look on her face, "What do you mean what language? It's French! I thought you read French." She held the book for him to see the passage she was currently reading, reciting it aloud perfectly then translating it to the English phrasing. "See?"

He ignored whatever it was she was trying to show him, and while he saw her speaking, he couldn't bring himself to care what was actually coming from that enticing mouth of hers. The words coming out were a string of silky sounding syllables of another language, eloquently accented and precisely inflected, the back of his mind automatically interpreted it as something about an engagement but his more active thoughts drifted to wanting to see exactly how that sweet, lush skin of her bottom lip would taste and feel if he tugged it between his teeth and sucked on it until it was red and further deliberation, Draco plucked the journal from her hands and thoughtlessly tossed it aside. She instantly made to protest the act her eyes widening quickly in anger.

"Malfoy! Give that back!"

He interrupted her protest with a firm shove, moving and pinning her easily against the cabinet with his hands on her hipbones. "Enough of the book! Did you genuinely come here for that...dressed like _this_?" Draco nodded his head at her attire his thumbs rubbing circles over the dips at her pelvis.

Only then did she seem to even realize how she was dressed. Hermione took in her skimpy attire and all of her exposed skin lit up into a shade of red so deep that against the green slip it was like Christmas. Her hands came between them planted on his bare chest trying to keep him from closing in as he was trying to do. "I-I'm sorry. I was reading and I-I-AH!"

Draco cut her stammering short and hefted her up onto the cabinet then, knocking several items to the floor with a raucous clatter as he readjusted her so her long smooth thighs sat along either side of his hips. He caught her eyes briefly then moved in to her neck to inhale deeply the fragrance that was so poignantly _Hermione_. His exhale came with a shudder, lips on her ear, "You plague my mind. Ever since you tumbled through that bloody fireplace almost two weeks ago, every day...every night..." Draco's voice was a low growl now, his speech shifting to something more menacing as his mouth filled with growing lengths of fangs. "No more waiting...I'll have you tonight..."

"_Draco..._" Hermione whimpered before she could help herself, she could feel the evidence of his arousal pressed firmly between her legs. Her head lolled back supported only by the hand he wound through her hair and soft moans escaped her as he ground against the growing wetness of the thin satin material covering her crotch. Of their own accord her hands trailed down his well muscled chest, her nails biting into the flesh creating angry red lines down to the waistband of his pants, hesitating at the closure. "..._I want you to take me..._"

His mouth broke into an arrogant smirk against her flesh. "I know...I can_ smell _you_.._" Draco bit into her shoulder then – _**hard** _– as he did several nights ago to stake his claim on the woman before him. He took great pleasure in knowing that from the force behind the bite she would sport his mark for _days_ for all to understand who she belonged to.

The witch arched into him and cried out in release, thrusting her hips to his and grinding against his still clothed erection with reckless abandon, her delicate fingers curled into the waistband of his slacks tugging him to her like she wanted to live in his skin. Hermione rode out the sudden orgasm, rubbing her clit against his hardness until the shudders subsided then loosed a frustrated growl of her own, creating enough space between them only so she could unzip his trousers and push down the offending clothing that kept them apart.

Understanding her urgency Draco snaked now familiarly clawed hands beneath the edge of the slinky negligee and tugged her to the edge of the cabinet, forcibly ridding her of her knickers in the process. He kicked away his discarded slacks, feet cracking and elongating into mighty hind paws as each foot returned to the cold stone floor. The pain of the change was practically nonexistent tonight somehow, all he felt were Hermione's hot little hands roving over his body, moving to the length of him to stroke him to full readiness and guide him to her entrance. When the tip of him felt the slick coating of her wetness he pulled his face from her shoulder, rivulets of her blood running down the furred chin of his newly formed muzzle from where he bit just a little_ too_ hard. The woman in his arms barely even seemed to notice he'd completed the transformation yet again with her only concern being having him inside of her as soon as silver eyes were darkened with lust and he pulled back his blackened lips in a snarl, looking to her face as he thrust into her in one single solid movement to watch her eyes shut in pleasure and mouth fall open in a sharp gasp.

"_Draco!_"

The wizard's name ripped from her throat in a loud moan, her inner muscles fluttering and pulsing around him trying to adjust to the sudden invasion of her most delicate parts. The form of the beastly Draco stilled with a barely controlled patience before her until she signaled her readiness for their mating by the firm rolling of her hips once again. The way she clenched around him as he moved within her, muscles tightening around his shaft and tugging at the edge of his head with every pull, made his eyes roll back and a monstrous groan shake his frame. Delicate fingers carded up through the fur covering his chest and warm arms encircled his neck, drawing his attention back to her face. He found her eyes half-lidded and sparking gold in the low light, lips turned in an almost patronizing way.

"_You are perfect..._"

Her voice was smooth and sultry, deeper than he ever recalled hearing it before. Her eyes were captivating, the heat of her desire reflected in them as though she weren't being taken by a monster at all. Her body lurched forward then causing him to catch her in his claws, the massive paws easily covering each of her ass cheeks as she picked up the pace of their coupling. Hermione's legs anchored tightly to his waist so she could lift and lower herself on his length, picking up her pace with an angle to her hips that had her clit brushing against his pelvis with every movement. The sheer pleasure of his hot and rigid member stroking a most sensitive spot just inside her entrance was freely shown upon her face.

Her cheeks were rosy with her efforts, gaze now nearly a molten liquid gold staring straight into his own, tongue curled against the backs of her teeth in concentration as she built them both up, pulled the both of them to that sweet sweet precipice. Sweat beaded on her skin, the flesh burning hot against Draco's body, her sweat matting the fur it touched from her exertions and her throaty moans sending anticipatory shudders down his spine. Her breath was becoming more labored now though he supported her easily with his hands under each thigh to free her to bounce on his cock as deeply or shallowly as she desired. The responding growls, snarls and other feral noises coming from the man before her only drew her second orgasm closer, her muscles winding tighter and tighter when she felt his own starting to tense and twitch beneath her – _inside_ her.

One last pull of her hips set him off. No longer satisfied with even her heightened pace, he gripped her painfully his claws digging into the meat of her ass and drawing blood as the frenzied and uneven thrusts of his hips slammed up into her. Sharp cries forced their way past her lips until he finally sheathed himself fully, cumming with a roar and sinking his teeth into the round globe of her breast in front of him. Hermione followed him off the cliff, tumbling through waves of ecstasy and euphoria from his hard spasms, his release filling her womb with an ultimate territorial claim.

The details of the world around him were blurred, the only thing he could feel being the small witch in his arms, still clenching around him, prolonging the shivers of his orgasm with each contraction. He stumbled to the settee weak-kneed and wobbly collapsing onto it awkwardly with her legs still wrapped about him. Draco blinked down at her, his human mind recessed mostly into the back of his consciousness and all he could make sense of was the way her fingers combed through the reddish fur blanketing his form.

The way she bore his mark.

The way her arms tugged him down to her again as though she were readying to kiss him.

The way her golden eyes gleamed wickedly with satisfaction.

The way the air around her buzzed with energy making his fur stand on end.

The way her scent cut through the thickness of the musk of sex – _roses..._

_The way her voice was _**_wrong_**...

"_Draco...you are perfect..."_

_He looked to her again and __saw a woman who looked very much like Hermione but she was wicked – __a __wicked, wicked woman with lips curled in a subtle and knowing way, pale complexion and dark curls spreading out beneath her. Her gaze was wistful __but __bordering on__ cold and she pulled him ever closer. Her stare took in the beast before her and showed no fear at the ghastly visage, __only a strange sadness that he couldn't explain. She moved her fingers over his cheek fondly __to hover and brush her mouth against his own._

"_...you will be the one to set me free..._" _Her accented word__s__ heated his lips before she closed the distance and sealed them with her own._

**_Saturday, February 3, 2001 – 8:00AM_**

Draco's eyes shot open from his spot pressed to the cold floor of the Manor's sitting room, heart pounding and breathing heavy. He pushed to his hands and knees as his eyes darted around him frantic and addled. The room was well placed and undisturbed thanks to some charms he'd placed on its contents weeks ago after he got tired of repairing furniture repeatedly due to uncontrolled outbursts of rage from the beast in his head. The memories sometimes took several minutes to return after waking so when he first moved he was confused at the satisfying soreness in his lower back and loins, his face turning in distaste noticing the mess of his seed smeared over the tops of his thighs, belly, and floor.

"What the blazes-"

"Malfoy! Malfoy are you there?"

His head snapped to the fireplace hearing Granger's voice sizzling through the spent ashes of the fire. He checked the mantel clock, _8:00AM –_ the sudden recollection of his torrid dream came flooding back to his forethought, lingering inappropriately on the sounds of Hermione's raunchy moans echoing in his ears. His dick twitched.

Sneering at his treacherous anatomy, he pulled a throw pillow from the closest seat, covering his privates with it and crawling to just the edge of vision of the disembodied head. "Granger, what is it?" His voice was hoarse from sleep, his tone snappish.

"Ah...I...I left something over there yesterday by mistake. Part of my research."

_'Oh Merlin...another dream?'_

"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind meeting me somewhere this morning and bringing it? We could have breakfast...or brunch if you'd like."

Draco peered at the talking head skeptically, "Why don't you just come here and get it?" '_Shit...why would you say that after what happened in...'_ He felt another pronounced twitch as the memories of his dream floated through his head once more.

"I just..well I'd like to talk to you about some things I've found out and I don't think it's a good idea necessarily for me to be...**_there_**." A pause. "I can't seem to keep my hands off of you when I'm there."

He imagined if the ash could blush then that's how the woman's face would look from her blurted confession. "Fine. Same cafe we met at the other day in about an hour. What is it that you left here that you need me to bring?"

"A book."

"A _what_?" He asked sharply, eyes darting to the cabinet where he'd left her bag's contents the night before. He had spent most of the afternoon looking at the files she'd left him but only after trying to figure out what the small journal was that she'd left with it all. It was the same book that appeared in his dream and he couldn't decipher the strange yet elegant script decorating all of the pages. His conversation with ember-Granger seemed far too coincidental to be a simple case of deja vu.

"A book. It's actually a diary that came over with the rest of the journals Corvus brought me in one of his deliveries. I think it's important-"

Draco listened to her for the most part but his glare was focused solely on the tan colored diary sitting on top of the witches' information. "Granger. What language is that text?"

The sooty head inclined itself to one side quizzically, "What? It's French of course. Just like the rest of them. Did you not look at it?"

"No...I'll bring it. An hour, Granger" His eyes narrowed suspiciously at the diary and any hint of his previous arousal was completely diminished at his silent agreement with her earlier assessment: _This journal was important...extremely important..._


	16. Chapter 15 - The Dates

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** No longer have I got anything in my back stores, it's all brand new from here on out. I apologize in advance for any errors in proofing and editing. Bear with me, those of you who are waiting for _**it**. _Next chapter will include the Valentine's ball and I'm not saying that things happen on Valentine's day...I'm just saying that things may happen on Valentine's day. Y'know. Once again, please read and review as you so choose.

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**__****Monday, February 5, 2001 – 8:00PM**

Another Monday night found Hermione curled up in her living room, tucked warmly under a fuzzy blanket with the mysterious journal settled in her lap. Draco had done as promised the past Saturday and brought the journal – and even later put her mind to rest stating he found Astoria's file at the Manor and had Corvus return it straight away to keep her from losing her job. He was oddly insistent that he take care of it and since they didn't require that high of a clearance to obtain no questions were asked, but by then she didn't pay his odd behavior much mind anyhow. He'd acted strangely earlier as well though she imagined that the beast was taking its toll on him. When the two of them discussed what she'd found out so far from reading the diary's passages he seemed fidgety, twitchy even, and his eyes kept lingering on the metal pendant she wore squinting at it like he was trying to set it ablaze. She'd asked him what he found so interesting and was offered only a sharp '_Nothing_' so she let it drop, not all that eager to have him explain why he continued staring at her neck like he did.

Hermione shamefully glossed over the dreams she'd been having nightly now ever since cracking the dang thing open – for some reason every time she thought to broach the topic an overwhelming anxiety flooded her and she lost her nerve. She didn't think too much of it really. After all, they were getting along so well ever since their talk the other day...aside from still apparently wanting to jump each other in the confines of his home...and she really didn't want to give him the ammunition of _silly_ dreams to start taking shots at her again – silly dreams she couldn't even remember most of, at that. Besides, they weren't harmful or anything, so what did it truly matter? That was her reasoning, anyway.

The witch yawned, closing the book again. The recent passages have been very boring to skim through, all things considered. She was able to find her place again after the proclamation of the young woman's engagement. There weren't entries for every single day, but Hermione found that most of them were just the girl fawning over the arrangements for the engagement party, the plans for the location, who would be the one to conduct the ceremony, what kind of dress she was going to have made, yada yada yada. All things she couldn't find herself to care about regardless of how enthusiastic the young woman was about it. She still searched line by line, word by word, looking for something helpful to confirm which heir she was due to marry, she just needed a name. The most helpful thing she'd found was an entry stating she was to move to the Malfoy's Manor with her future husband. With that, Hermione thought it was a solid enough clue and immediately contacted Draco to confirm and find which of his ancestors would have been alive at that point, only to reach another unforeseen hitch.

As was typical of the Malfoy family line, there was one male heir born to each wedded couple – no more, no less. From what Draco told her, this was the case for as long as anyone could remember and as far back as they had records. The journal entries she was going through now were from 1739 so theoretically it should have been extremely easy for them to pinpoint the Malfoy in question, save for the facts that records around that time were suspiciously absent from their library. While Hermione, in her experienced sleuthing, knew this to be a good sign, 100% positive now that they were on the right track to find the origins and, in turn, a cure for the curse, Draco was livid and seemed _more_ upset.

Draco scoured his library for anything around that time frame: tabloids, paintings, letters – nothing. His family's history seemed to drop off into nothingness between the last records about Brutus Malfoy in the 17th century and Septimus in the late 18th. The journals that he could find with anything that held information about the curse directly didn't start becoming common until well into the early 1800' he went to check the Malfoy family tapestry, there was a curiously shrouded portion of the tree that made it increasingly difficult to view the earlier branches and try as he might, he was unable to provide her with any names.

'_The damned bloody curse – all of it!_' He'd said and flew into another fit. Hermione thought it best to let him alone for the moment at that point. They'd communicated through the floo and she urged him to calm himself and relax for the rest of the evening, she would find what she could on her end and they would regroup later. She'd reminded him that he had his dates to worry about this and next week so he needed to keep his wits about him, otherwise the whole world would know something was the matter. When he begrudgingly agreed she found herself relieved yet ill at the same time. It was probably just her lack of sleep getting to her but the idea of him with those other women still turned her stomach. Deciding to call it an early night she snuggled under her blanket on the sofa, content to just nod off there instead of climbing over the mess she still had laying about the room and wiggle her way into her bed. Hermione settled in comfortably and was asleep within minutes, this time to dream of the gift of a beautifully crafted and pink-tinted expensive gold charm in the shape of a rose.

**_Tuesday, February 6, 2001 – 2:00PM – _**_**Clarissa** _

"I would absolutely adore a huge wedding. We would have the engagement party at the Manor, of course, but the wedding, oh I think I'd like to do an outdoor wedding! Oh yes! We could have it in the summer at sunset, the sun sinking in the distance with the color reflecting in the water that the cliff overlooks-"

"Cliff?"

"Yes, Draco, keep up!" The petite black haired witch giggled and swatted at his hand across the table playfully before continuing her fantasy, "A hilltop wedding in the evening, all the most important people invited of course. I suppose one or two approved photographers to capture the wedding of the century!"

Draco blinked owlishly at the woman, her words drowned out into unintelligible blabber the longer she went on. He had barely formally introduced himself to his date an hour ago and it wasn't long before she stole the lead on the conversation and began talking about her dream wedding. It started all hypothetically at first but at some point she saw fit to include him specifically in the fantasy and he was leaned back in his chair, idly thumbing the condensation on his glass of water while he listened to his fate with this witch play out.

His eyes roved over her otherwise preoccupied figure, weighing the outcome of seeing her again. She was pretty of course, jet black hair, straight as an arrow, draped down her back and framed her face. Her skin was pale like his and her eyes a shade of icy blue which he found particularly interesting. He watched her lips moving animatedly, they were painted a bright shade of ruby and creating a red blur as they ran dozens of words a minute while she described their future together.

Draco fell into a daze, focused on the bright color against her near white skin, tracing the curve of her lips with his eyes and from there finding the little faint lines of her veins spidering out over her cheeks and neck. The subtle blue lines ran in little paths like long and occasionally intersecting roads and he found himself following their path down her neck to linger at the pulse point behind her jaw. He saw the skin shift lightly with the beats of her heart and unconsciously wet his lips. Thoughts of seeing that beautiful red color of her lips bursting forth from that tiny little vein crept into the back of his mind. Instinctually, he knew that if he were to rip into that spot with his hands, maybe his teeth, he could see that gorgeous red spread all over her skin and taste it's sweet metallic tang on his tongue.

"Draco?"

The wizard started suddenly, somewhere along the line having leaned forward as though he were much more interested in the witch's blathering than he really was. His gaze snapped up from her neck to her eyes where she was looking at him with her best sultry look, having taken his movement to mean something else.

"Are you alright? Did you want to...get out of here? Maybe somewhere a little more private?"

He barely refrained at recoiling from her touch and managed a polite smile and a shake of his head. "I apologize. I've not been feeling well recently, I think we'll have to call the date short. Perhaps we can reschedule after I've had a bit of rest."

Draco excused himself quickly, leaving a bewildered woman in his wake as he took care of the bill and as soon as he was clear of the restaurant apparated to the edge of the anti-apparition wards of the Manor, hurrying himself inside in an incredibly disturbed huff.

_**Wednesday, February 7, 2001 – 10:45AM – Flora** _

The witch looked as delicate as her name suggested, 'A_ little waif of a thing,' _thought Draco snidely as he pulled her seat out for her. After his hasty exit from his other date the day before, he felt extra jittery and didn't much care for the delicate little flower of a woman before him fearing that he might shatter her by looking in her direction too hard.

Draco glanced about the restaurant noting everything seemed to be much more vivid for him now, even as he sat facing this new witch at their table for brunch he could see the fine details of her skin, freckles dotting her nose and cheeks, he could hear the occasional way she sucked her teeth between sentences and the overpowering smell of her perfume took strides to turn his stomach. He wasn't sure what the woman was thinking when she doused herself in the fragrance that morning but the heavy scent of vanilla and sugary sweet maple was curbing his appetite as the seconds ticked by. She smelled like she was trying to shove some disastrous kind of hotcake up his nose forcibly and he had no idea how anyone else around them could not say anything let alone stand it.

"Ah, thank you Draco! Such a gentleman," she smiled a wide too-bright smile, "Robby – my ex – never did things like that. He wouldn't know what being a gentleman was if you hit him with a tome full of animated pictures about it!"

Draco arched an eyebrow but settled in his seat as comfortably as possible, subtly propping his elbow on his chair's armrest and half covering his nose with his fingers in his best 'intrigued and interested and not at all trying to plug my nose' look. He offered her a sly smile and replied smoothly, "It's a lost art it seems. While some of our traditions are being upheld others like holding a door open for a lady are lost to the wind – at least in my observations anyway."

The tiny witch gave him another of her smiles, it was like some crazy Cheshire cat grin with the way it seemed to take up her entire face. "I couldn't agree with you more. I mean when I was dating Robby, like I said before, he would never do anything like that. He wouldn't open a door for me, wouldn't pull out my chair, wouldn't take me on nice vacations anywhere. He was a complete waste! I remember this one time-"

As she went on her rather animated tirade of escapades with her ex-boyfriend and how _dreadfully __awful_ he was Draco couldn't help but fidget like he was a young boy again sitting through one of his parents' dinner parties before he was old enough to control his energy and at least pretend he was mildly interested in the conversation at hand. The witch would occasionally look to him for some kind of reassuring expression or interjection which he provided with practiced ease. They had only just sit down, not even having ordered their food and drink yet, before she had launched into her full epic backstory of her adventures with her ex-boyfriend Robby who apparently was kind of a 'bad boy' type according to her and he 'treated her like Muggle trash but he had a good heart'. Draco also learned that she and Robby were 'truly in love' for a time but 'their priorities didn't mesh and so it was very obviously a mutual breakup but it was okay because he never knew how to treat her like she deserved anyway.'

Draco blinked, listening to her suck her teeth – why she was doing it considering they hadn't even eaten yet, he wasn't sure, but it was like the noise was echoing in his ears and getting louder each time she did. "So, excuse me if this is a little forward, but how long ago exactly did you two split up?"

The witch looked thoughtful for a long time and refrained from sucking her teeth while the gears in her head started to chug to life to pull a number out of it. "Two...no, _three weeks ago." _

There was that smile again, a shit eating grin almost, as she seemed rather proud of the time frame for some reason.

'_I'm not going to be some bloody rebound for this silly bint,' _he thought to himself when she started up into another story that she apparently reminded herself about from talking about a _different_ story. It was like being stuck in purgatory or maybe just observing that snake eating its own tail for all eternity as she retold her horrible couple stories of her and her ex-boyfriend and somehow managed to bound off of those into even more of the ridiculous things all the while driving a pick into his skull with her repeated teeth sucking and making him want to vomit with the poorly mixed concoction of sweet musky perfume that she bathed in before their date.

Draco rigidly contained his sigh and finally had to excuse himself to the loo to escape for _just_ a few minutes. Anything to lessen the headache that this little one was doing an excellent job of coaxing into fruition.

_**Friday, February 9, 2001 – 1:45PM – Alexandria** _

Sipping his tea, Draco was feeling a bit better about today's date versus all the others thus far. He met the young witch for a late lunch and they were enjoying simple sandwiches and simple conversation. For her part, Alexandria seemed like a nice enough woman. She was well mannered and relatively quiet, all things considered. She didn't laugh too loud, suck her teeth, smell like crystallized sugar incarnate, sketch out seating arrangements for their wedding, or act like a holier than thou bitch about everything they talked about – so far, so good!

While he didn't feel the intense urge to throw the woman down and shag her silly like he found he did with Granger, he did appreciate many of the intelligent and well thought out replies to their various topics of conversation. It wasn't daydreaming about satisfaction in the carnal sense but he felt pretty good about this one, she was definitely in the running for a second date at this rate!

"Do you mind if I order dessert?"

"Not at all provided you don't mind sharing." Draco smiled roguishly and gave her a little wink with his reply.

Alexandria blushed prettily and nodded, "Of course! It would be _my_ pleasure really."

He signaled the waiter and several minutes later they returned with a heaping slice of tiramisu and a shiny new fork for each of them. Draco smirked when the witch's eyes lit up as she took in the tasty looking dessert.

"Ohh! This is my favorite kind of sweet, _ever_!" She snatched up her fork and made a quick little movement to take a piece of it for herself, letting loose a delighted '_mmm_' at the taste of it.

"I'm glad you like it. Is this chocolate?" Draco inspected the little brown particles dusted all over the stark white plate the cake sat upon curiously.

Her eyes went round as saucers, "You don't know? You've _never_ had it before?! Oh! Here, let me."

She caught his attention with the offered piece of tiramisu balanced easily on her fork and thrust forward with such confidence. Draco eyed the cake but still gave her a good smile, ready to politely decline, "Thank you but I was just joking really. I'm pretty full-"

"Aw c'mon ickle Dwakie. Open up for 'Xandria!"

Draco's face fell, "Pardon?"

Oblivious, the witch swirled the fork around, her sole attention focused on getting him to sample the cake, "Open, open! C'mon Dwakie-poo, just a 'ittle wittle taste, it's good, I promise!"

'_Was she..._?' His eyes followed the way dessert was bobbing up and down, inching closer and closer to his face.

"Here comes the bwoom! Pshooooom!"

He opened his mouth to say something, protest again maybe, _call her daft more than likely_, but found a creamy and heavily coffee flavored cake popped into his mouth by her fingers – not fork – instead. Draco's nostrils flared, the scent and taste of the coffee too strong to his empowered senses; he wasn't a fan of this, the cake or the nonsensical baby talk and last he checked there was an 'R' in his first name.

Draco smiled tightly at the witch's all too proud of herself look, nodded at her and took up a cloth napkin to wipe away the powder she'd smeared on his face discreetly spitting the cake into the cloth.

She didn't seem to notice that or the way he massaged his temples for the rest of their luncheon as she went to town on her dessert.

_**Tuesday, February 13, 2001 – 12:40PM** _

Hermione tipped the teapot to top off the wizard's cup, she'd lost count of which number it was since they arrived for their lunch meeting with Draco having regaled her with the delightful stories of his dates. "So...that bad huh?"

He snorted into his tea and gave her a half nod, reclining on his side of the booth after his sip, "You could say that. You could say that a thousand times over."

She frowned and broke a croissant in half, thoughtfully munching on it for a moment, "I could always pull different candidates if you'd like. I mean, initially I did only bring you a handful of the witches that are available, I could go back and scour the records for more."

"No. No more of these ridiculous dates." Draco peeked at her thoughtfully over the edge of his cup seeing an opportunity to poke at her and make himself feel better, "Although...that may put you back on the list. And in that case, I may reconsider. Remember Granger? Long walks on the beach, holding hands-"

Hermione reached across the table and smacked his arm though it was much more playful than her normal whip-like force. "Tch, in your _dreams_, Malfoy!"

His eyes narrowed with an irritated mumble. "_Every bloody night..._" Even then, just acknowledging the fact that he'd been dreaming about her constantly since he touched that strange diary made muscles in his lower parts tighten in a good but completely inopportune way.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

"Right...well in all seriousness, you really haven't found a one that you'd like to escalate to a second tier of dates?"

"Again, no. I thought there might have been one but she decided to start playing Hogwarts Express with her food and my mouth was the tunnel."

Hermione gave him a funny look, not entirely sure how to take that.

"Nevermind. The answer is no, these stupid bit-"

"Malfoy!"

"...ladies...are completely self-absorbed, stuck up, snooty uselessness! And they stink!"

She blinked, "They...stink?"

He rubbed his face with his hands, "Nevermind..."

Draco had been growing more and more irritable each day. Between these horrible dates and their awful personalities and the changes leaving him with more and more residual rage from the beast, not to mention the lucid dreams of him fucking the sense out of the woman in front of him in the most savage kinds of ways, he was just a tightened ball of ever growing stress. He reached for one of the pastries in front of him and began ripping it into little pieces onto his plate in an irate manner not sure if he intended on eating it or not.

"Malfoy if you don't stop shredding your food instead of eating it, **_I'm_** going to play Hogwarts Express with your tunnel!" Hermione immediately burned a bright shade of red after the statement came out of her mouth – '_Bloody fucking hell...do I just lose brain cells when I'm near him or something?_'

A pale blonde eyebrow arced high and a smirk slowly curled his lips pulling him out of his bitter mood for a moment as he delighted in the embarrassment flooding the witch, "Are you coming on to me, Granger?"

"T-to stop wasting food! I would feed you-" she sputtered, her cheeks burning brighter the more she tried to amend her statement. "Oh bugger it, leave me alone! You know what I meant you incorrigible-"

"Incorrigible prat, yes, yes, I know." He dropped the shredded remnants of the croissant onto the plate before him and shifted in his seat, one arm draped over the back of the booth and his legs stretching out beneath the table. "So have you found anything else useful out from that book?"

Hermione was thankful for the abrupt change of subject, relaxing her shoulders and sitting back in her own seat. "Kind of? I feel like there's something I'm missing."

"Like why the hell you can read it and I can't?"

"Well, that's one thing...but with what all has been happening..I think there's something running deeper than what your ancestor's have found out about it."

"What do you mean what's been happening?" He gestured between the two of them, "You mean between you and I?"

She coughed, scratching the tip of her nose nervously, "Y-yes, _that_ and a couple other things..."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the woman across the table, he saw how she tugged the corner of her lip between her teeth and fidgeted. She dared a quick glance up to him and her eyes darted away again and he felt his own widen, pointing an accusatory finger at her, "...fucking hell, Granger, you're _HIDING_ something!"

"I'm not!"

"Oh sod off with that bullshit, you're a horrible liar. What the hell happened?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Hermione looked around seemingly satisfied that nobody really seemed to care what was happening at their table.

He leaned in a bit menacingly, "Granger, if there's something big you've been keeping from me, so help me.."

"There's not!" She shifted her stare to the side, "Well...okay there's something but it's not necessarily _big_...per se."

"_Hermione_," he said it in a warning tone only realizing that it was probably one of the few times he'd said her given name aloud when they weren't in some magic induced haze trying to boff each other. He blamed the damn dreams...in those he said her name..._**a lot**._ And typically in the most lewd kinds of context. She seemed to notice it too because all her fidgeting stopped in an instant and she looked into his eyes sharply, mouth slightly parted in surprise. Draco cleared his throat to try and cover his slip up, "I won't be mad. Just tell me what you're talking about."

The witch rubbed the back of her neck some then took to fiddling with the little lily pendant around her neck as she began, suddenly much more nervous than before. She knew that she should have told him about her dreams sooner but they didn't seem like a big deal at first. They were very vague and she could barely remember anything about them upon waking but for the past week or so, ever since she'd gotten the diary back from him, they became increasingly more vivid and she was able to remember much, much more, almost a disturbing amount as though she were there watching everything that happened through a Pensieve.

"I...I've been having dreams. Visions maybe? I'm not sure exactly. And who knows? They could be nothing at all! But they started after I first started reading the journal. They were sporadic and I couldn't remember them in much detail after I woke up but they've been becoming more and more frequent and I may have been losing a little bit of sleep because of them waking me up in the middle of the night – but I was going to tell you! I just wanted to make sure that it was something significant before I bothered you with it. You know, I didn't want to excite you for nothing and all." The huge mass of words tumbled from her lips in a nervous stream and she barely caught a breath in between her sentences for him to interject even if he wanted to. When Hermione tilted her face up to him again she saw the telltale sign of his ticking jaw meaning that, _yes...he was mad._

"So." Draco swept his gaze around the immediate vicinity of their booth to make sure nobody was due to bother them, satisfied he turned back to her resuming that stretched out position from before but with a finer, more noticeable stiffness to his back, neck, and shoulders. "What you're basically telling me...is that you were reading a _cursed_ journal all this time, suffering its ill effects for, what? Weeks now? All while we've been dallying about trying to send me on dates?" He leaned in suddenly, obviously angry now and hissed harshly at her, "Are you FUCKING mad?!"

"It's NOT!-" she halted herself, lowering her voice to her own hissing whisper, "It's **_NOT_ **cursed! We have NO conclusive evidence to start calling it 'cursed'!"

"FINE. But it reeks of magic! OLD magic, Granger. This is dangerous. THAT thing, is dangerous. How in the nine hells could you have just been reading it all this time and not thought to say anything? Y'know, mention in passing that this bloody tome is causing those black bags under your eyes?" He motioned violently to her barely concealed darkened skin lining her dulled chocolate orbs. "I swear! I knew you were downright bonkers, but this takes the fucking cake!"

Hermione's hand lurched out before she could stop it with full intent on providing her lunch companion with an open handed slap across his cheek only to be stopped just as quickly by Draco's reflexes. The hand that moments ago was fisted in outrage on the tabletop snapped up to clamp around her bare wrist just inches before her hand would have connected with his face. The moment their skin touched a familiar electric buzz of energy hummed to life, both of them felt it by the shared look of surprise that was swiftly replaced by darkening looks of lust.

Something about the touch specifically must have triggered a memory for her because he scented her immediately. Nostrils flared, he took in an unabashed breath never once breaking eye contact and moving his nose and lips to nuzzle almost fondly into her now cupped hand. He knew her heady aroma in a heartbeat, having dreamt about it every day for the past week. It wasn't like the perfumers imagined musk and desire and _sex_ to smell like in a sweet bottle of fragrance, it was much less obnoxious and was less of the smell and more the presence.

Her scent had power, it vibrated with it in a way that dug itself into his muscles and bones, permeating all defenses and making him desire it like a warm full body massage whose grip he never wanted to stray from. The way it lingered in the air between them, teasing and taunting, lithe like a dancer weaving its way to touch on his senses only long enough to intrigue him and draw him in, reminded him of her cleverness. It reflected her in its dance, alluring in the way only she could be and once he was entranced and within its clutches the boldness of it encased him, demanding his undivided attention and begging for more.

No, it wasn't simply a scent that captured him, it was her, it was _her_ unique scent that outright sang to him and no one else. **She **drew him to her, not the shallow and pompous witches he was wasting his time with all week, it was Hermione Granger – brightest witch of her age – that beckoned. She called to him in the most primal of ways and his beast was eager to answer.

"It's cursed," his voice was gruff and muffled by the hand that cupped his cheek, her thumb roving over his unshaved stubble.

She shook her head, swallowing and finding her leg reaching of its own accord to brush against his longer ones under the table. "It's not, we can't call it that until we know-"

"I've been having dreams as well."

At the dark look he was giving her, Hermione had an inkling of what he might be eluding to considering not quite ALL of her dreams were like visions. She would never admit out loud that the man seconds away from nibbling on the skin over her wrist was a featured player in them, but she could admit to herself that she had them at least. She asked him anyway, "What of?"

He did bite her then in an affectionate kind of way, a faint pinch of skin between his teeth over her pulse point before he straightened though didn't let go. "This," he nodded to the two of them, "Us. With less of these." He tugged at the sleeve of her blouse.

Hermione gulped, nodded, and slowly extracted her hand from his grasp – partly so as not to startle him in this state and partly to relish the heat of his skin pressing against hers for as long as possible. She left her leg where it was. "Maybe it is then...but I think it's more than that." The lessening of contact with him did well to clear her head though his presence was still comforting. "The diary, I think it's hers. The one who cursed your family to begin with. I think these are _her_ memories that I'm seeing."

Restraining himself from reaching over the table and taking her hand again, Draco opted to nudge her leg craving the touch, minor as it was. "That would likely make the most sense. She's done an excellent job of covering her tracks considering nothing seems to exist in the time frame that would identify her or my ancestor. A right crafty one she was, apparently." He noticed her slight furrow of her brow, "What?"

"I don't think it was intentional."

"What? You're saying this was all a quaint little accident?"

Hermione calmed him quickly, taking his hand in both of hers before she knew what she was doing. She powered through his narrowed eyes and their multitude of emotions fighting amongst themselves at the way her thumbs went back to rubbing soothing circles over his palm.

"No, _your_ family's curse was definitely intentional. But _us_, the effects of the diary, I don't think this was supposed to be how it worked. I've worked my way through the written pages now, they're completely blank after that. The last entry I read was about their upcoming engagement party and it looks like it was held at your family's Manor – the same one you still occupy. For someone that has been filling page after page with giddy nonsense about her wedding to cut it all short up to their engagement party...it doesn't add up."

Draco snorted, coming back to himself a bit, "Well I hardly think that she'd write all about this wretched curse with a play by play only to leave it here for the Malfoy family to entertain themselves with it for generations."

"That's just _it_. Why was that journal even mixed in with the Malfoy belongings? She evidently kept it very close to her if the entries tell me anything. With something that personal she wouldn't just leave it with someone that is likely to have hated her with such an intense passion for inflicting them with the curse to begin with. There's no reason that such a telling piece of history should be in your family's possession."

He leaned his head back, squinting at her while the possibilities processed themselves through his head, "So you think she left it here, charmed with...whatever it is it's charmed with, on purpose? Hate to break that to you, but that wouldn't exactly constitute as 'unintentional'"

"No it wouldn't, but remember what you'd told me before? About what the legend of the original cursebearer went through? The witch cursed him for his unfaithfulness and it was lifted once he committed to her and they were married, but it was only lifted from _him_. Their son was afflicted as well and was made to participate in an arranged marriage to break it."

"Right, right, right, what are you trying to get at here?" His patience was wearing thin, maybe it was more residual irritation from the nightly transformations or possibly just the amount of control he was having to employ to talk to the woman soothing his hand in her own instead of dragging her to the alleyway and taking her against the wall.

"What I'm GETTING at, is even with the variances we've found here and there, the constant is that the witch always claimed ignorance at the persisting nature of the curse even as she was driven from the Manor by the husband that rescinded their vows after 'discovering her treachery'. I don't think all the magic at work here was intentional and I think this may be like...like a beacon! If the writing is anything to go off of, she seemed like a sweet woman, I don't think she'd mean to do something so malicious. Maybe something else happened that we aren't aware of. Malfoy, don't you see? We don't know her side of the story at all and for something to take root so deeply in the blood well...maybe this is somehow how she was asking for help! We need to find out who she was and most of all: what happened to her after this engagement party!"

Draco tugged his hand away finally from Hermione's rhythmic touch and scowled at her newly eager expression, "I know that look, Granger. DON'T touch that book again. You are about to incite forces you don't understand on a hunch – a crazy one at that!"

"I'm not!"

"Rubbish! You are and you have no idea what will happen. What if it kills me? What if it kills _you_? Bad people don't like to be found out of the kindness of their hearts. Don't bloody do it!"

"So WHAT if it kills me? Isn't that what you hired me on for? To solve your problem however it need be accomplished?" She smarted back at him, thoroughly ruffled at having her idea thrown back in her face, "If it weren't for the magic pulling us together, you'd be more than happy at that prospect and you know it! I am trying to solve your problem AND mine and you're saying 'not to bloody do it'! I don't have a death wish, but I've got a good feeling about this and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me!"

Draco sneered, that turn of his lips having been absent for quite some time during their past interactions. He jerked Hermione forward across the table with a firm grip behind her head and planted his lips solidly over hers. She was shocked at first but quickly melted into his kiss, her soft sigh drawing a warm rumble from his throat. That same buzz of energy sprang to life at their link but this kiss was different. Where previously the ones they'd shared had been urgent, raw, needy, nothing but a flood of baser emotions and drive, this one was pleasantly soft and languorous after the initial press of his lips. His mouth pulled and massaged at her own in lengthy movements as he reveled in the feel of her luxurious soft pink lips working against his. Draco sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, rolling the plump flesh between them to work all the blood to the surface before he tugged away and released, leaving it red, wet, and swollen and leaving _her_ heavy lidded and breathless.

He murmured lowly, forehead pressed to hers with their noses barely brushing one another, "I'm asking you. Don't do it..."

Hermione felt him leaning in again and she closed her eyes to keep from going cross-eyed and sighed contently, nearly drowning in the warmth he put off. Then just like that he moved away. It wasn't a snappish move as she'd come to expect from their 'decoupling' to date but much more thoughtful, solicitous maybe. She watched him pull several cash notes from his billfold and place them on their table to cover their lunch and a large tip for all the time they took at the one spot. As almost an afterthought, he paused at her side and scanned over her features with an openly appraising look and reached to tuck one of her wild bunches of hair behind her ear, seeming quite pleased with himself at the action.

She watched him leave then without another word and it was only several minutes later that she realized she'd been staring in the direction of his departing back long after he'd disappeared from view. Left to herself now she realized that their section of the restaurant had been eerily quiet and that there was practically no one seated anywhere nearby. Hermione wasn't sure if it was luck or if it was just the fact that they'd been meeting at this place specifically every time they had something to discuss and the staff understood their tendency to row and do...other socially unacceptable things in public.

Hermione followed suit and gathered her belongings to be on her way, feeling an uneasy roiling in her gut at the regret that was preparing itself, for she very well knew that she was going to do exactly what he'd asked her not to.


	17. Chapter 16 - The Valentine

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** If you did not know this was rated M before, please be advised that, yes, it still very much is and this is probably a good example. Not much editing was accomplished for this one, I'm sorry, I hope I didn't miss anything too awful. There is plot in here - somewhere - but perhaps a bit more of what you've been waiting for. Please continue to read and review as you so choose and without further ado, enjoy.

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**__****Wednesday, February 14, 2001 – 5:00PM – Valentine's Day**

_'This was ridiculous – just fucking looney.'_

Hermione stared at her reflection in her bathroom mirror and the outfit she managed to pull together for her mandatory evening of _fun_. The event was a formal, much to her displeasure, so she'd had to find an appropriate gown to wear that would fulfill her duties representing The Ministry and her department without giving certain individuals – _McLaggen_ – inappropriate ideas. Unfortunately, due to her resistance and procrastination, she was left with few choices and ended up with something much more gaudy and form fitting than she would have ever chosen if left to her own devices.

Her dress was a rich burgundy shade and it hugged the swell of her breasts, hips, and ass tightly in a somehow still flattering and elegant way. It was strapless and covered her bosom with a sweetheart neckline lined in a thick band of expensive looking silver crystals with red gemstones accenting its center in floral patterns. Those same silver rhinestones peppered the center front of the gown in a delicate line all the way to its bottom edge in a tasteful and classy way only coming to cluster at her chest under her bustline where they swirled into a small circle topped with another setting of glittering red gems. The fabric itself gathered under her breasts and accentuated Hermione's hourglass shape, offering a more dramatic flare at her hips where it was so perfectly fitted against her silhouette. The back of the dress cut low, well below her shoulderblades, exposing the long smooth expanse of her back. The satiny gathers from the front cinched down the center back as well along either side of the back zip before smoothing out and tugging it snugly over her shapely rear to cascade down behind her into a small train.

Hermione managed to tame her wild hair into much smoother lengths of curls that brushed back over her shoulders and spine. Her makeup was minimal with only glossed lips and the absolute bare minimum of eyeshadow and blush. She wore only simple jewelry: drop earrings with little red gem clusters hanging from silver hoops that matched the rhinestones, a single silver bangle on her left wrist that was charmed to hold a _Disillusionment _charm meant to conceal blemishes using it to hide away the scar carved into her forearm, and her usual floral pendant. She balanced on heeled sandals colored to match the fabric of her gown perfectly even though they were mostly hidden behind the fabric of it. All in all, Hermione was the picture of elegance and beauty. There was no denying that she was an absolutely gorgeous witch enveloped in the deep sultry color that accentuated some of her darker features.

She felt absolutely horrid.

"Ridiculous," she echoed her earlier thought aloud, entirely unhappy with the way she looked.

The dress was too revealing, it was too tight, she wished it was a less expensive and delicate looking fabric, she wanted sleeves or a jacket...or a bloody burlap bag. She did not like it one bit. Hermione didn't take kindly to being paraded around in front of the potential investors attending the ball – especially since they were the reason for her being made to attend – and she especially loathed to do it in something that spoke nothing about how competent of a witch she was in her duties there. She felt fragile in the damned thing and like she would fall on her face at any moment or step on her train or just do something equally mortifying to completely ruin the evening. She didn't care about this intricate political, monetary portion of The Ministry, she just wanted to do her job and be left alone. But _no. _They saw fit to posture about and have the token war heroine give a speech.

"Bloody. Fucking. Ridiculous." She muttered while doing one last once over of herself, snatching up her matching clutch and making her way to her fireplace to floo to the private convention center where the event was being held.

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

To say the ballroom was crowded would be a gross understatement. In addition to all the Ministry's attending employees and current investors, there were several invitations sent out to potential future investors and charity organizations and everyone was dressed to the nines. It truly was posturing at its finest.

Hermione huffed in her corner, palms sweating lightly from the anticipation of giving her stupid speech later this evening. She twirled the thin stem of her champagne flute between her thumb and fingers, swishing the sharp tasting beverage around in nervous patterns.

"Oh, excellent, pet."

The twirling of her glass stopped abruptly and she jolted herself out of her surprise by the few drips of liquid that spattered on her arm. "Cormac...fancy meeting you here..." she mumbled, cleaning the liquid from her skin and awkwardly ran her hand along the decorative drapes behind her to avoid ruining the too-expensive gown.

McLaggen let out an appreciative noise, mock toasting her with his own glass. "You look absolutely splendid, love. We're going to be all over the papers!"

"We?"

"Of course! Now don't be shy, just look over there."

He leaned in suddenly, an arm across her back with the other gesturing in one direction that she followed with a turn of her head out of reflex. The loud _POP!_ of a flashbulb firing and the brilliant bright white light made her see spots in her vision. Blinking blearily, she shoved him away from her as politely as she could muster, "McLaggen I thought I told you I wasn't interested in being your date."

The wizard snorted a laugh, "You were _serious_ about that?" He waved her statement away jovially and resumed his position with an arm around her in an overly forward manner. "That's alright, we just have to pose for some photos – maybe you'll change your mind by the end of the night."

"I don't think that—"

"_Hermione!_"

"Huh?"

_POP! Flash._

She grunted when another photographer caught her off guard and brought those white spots back to her vision with a fervor.

"Cormac I'm just really not-"

_POP! POP! POP!_

She grated her teeth together now properly blinded, "I'm not interested in posing, _especially_ for these gossipy tabloids. I'd really rather they didn't take photos of us together if it's all the same to you. I get enough attention still as it is."

"Oh it's just a bit of fun, love, nothing to worry about." He ignored her increasingly less kind protests and took her by the shoulders to turn her for yet another photo of the two of them together. After this one, however, his hand seemed to wander down the curve of her back to rest too comfortably on her ass.

That was it. Hermione felt her skin heat almost immediately in a rage that had been simmering just below the surface ever since this idiot stepped into her office harping on her about this blasted party in the first place. With a surprising amount of strength, the witch shoved McLaggen, **_hard_**_, _causing him to stumble awkwardly a few paces before he reclaimed his balance.

"You...miserable LETCH!" She stabbed her finger into his chest, her angry sentiment drawing enough attention that all the immediate surrounding attendees fell into a hushed silence at the outburst. "Day after bloody day you prance into my office, _HOUNDING_ me about the ball and day after day I tell you 'no' as nicely as I can. Well that's it, McLaggen! Get it through your thick, cracked skull that I don't want you, I want nothing to do with you, and I want you as far from me as physically possible in this world and the next! If you touch me again, if you so much as **_LOOK_ **at me in that obnoxious way that you do, I am going to take your wand and shove it so far up your arse you'll be coughing colors!"

After her enraged dressing down of him, Cormac reached a hand to her in a move as though he were trying to placate a wild animal but the second his fingers touched her bare skin, she launched into a rage and opted for – not magic – but a powerful and well delivered slug to his perfect jaw, knocking him into the wall behind them and causing him to stumble to the floor.

The crowd that had gathered in a circle around the pair drew a collective gasp at the scene and Hermione had barely enough thought to storm off and away, anywhere but there. Among those in the audience were several of the potential investors looking at varying departments of The Ministry, Kingsley, and a freshly arrived Draco Malfoy. The latter two were barely restraining looks of intense pleasure at seeing the pompous git get dropped like a stone by the petite little thing otherwise known as Hermione Granger.

**_Wednesday, February 14, 2001 – __6__:00PM – Valentine's Day_**

"Shit." Hermione rubbed at her face for the billionth time. "Shit, fucking bollocks, piss, and SHIT." She grumbled repeatedly to herself, leaning forward in her purloined banquet chair, head in her hands and a serving tray of empty champagne flutes on the table at her side. "So long to my fucking career!"

"_Language_ Granger. Tsk tsk tsk...first you haul off on McLaggen – which, looks MUCH more amusing when you're not on the receiving end of it by the way – now you're cursing like a sailor. What are we ever going to do with you?"

Her head snapped up at the familiar voice cutting through the previous silence of the small spare meeting room she snuck away to. "Draco! What are you doing here?"

Draco's head tilted slightly to one side at the use of his first name, it had been a little while since he'd heard the non-dream Granger say it and he found he quite liked the way it sounded on her lips. "Guest speaker," he replied sardonically with an over dramatic bow that made his perfectly tailored dress robes billow around him.

Hermione got to her feet, wobbling at the sudden movement, partly due to her still unfamiliar heeled shoes and perhaps a larger part being the four empty champagne glasses sitting on the discarded tray behind her. Draco was there in an instant, steadying her before she planted her face onto the tiled floor. Her hands gripped at his robes harshly until she finally reestablished her balance with his help and she found his face startlingly close.

Daintily smoothing the lines of his robes again, she couldn't help her blurry eyed blinks at his face, "I thought you told me you weren't coming. What about the..." she looked around to make sure they were alone and no one else had snuck in to the room, "_The curse?_"

Draco swept his eyes over her magnificently dressed figure with an unadulterated, appreciative hum, urging her closer with where his hands rested at her waist. He cared little for the conversation at hand but answered all the same, much more intent on creating a plan on how to extract her from her evening wear. "I just came to give the speech and go. The Minister wouldn't let me out of attending, even made reference to 'reevaluating' certain permissions to the Malfoy vaults for funding if I refused. Something about investors and other nonsense being a big deal. I told him that I wouldn't be able to attend late in the evening so he shifted the schedule a bit and got me an earlier spot on the podium. Whatever is going on behind the scenes here must be important if someone like Shacklebolt was issuing petty threats."

Her eyes went wide, more focused on the surprising news than the way Draco's fingertips played at her hipbones, "_Kingsley_ said that?! Are you sure you heard him right, Malfoy? He wouldn't!"

"He did." He subtly moved her, swaying lightly with the soft music floating in from down the hall in the main party area and abruptly changed the subject, "And you're welcome, by the way."

"For what?" She unconsciously draped her arms over his shoulders, looking at him quizzically.

"I diffused the mess you left in your wake a bit. I'd still expect to see some interesting things in tomorrow's Prophet, but I spoke with The Minister about some things and you need not worry about being unemployed in the morning."

Hermione perked up, decidedly more sober at that news, "How in Merlin's name did you accomplish that?"

"I'll tell you later," Draco leaned in to brush his lips over the shell of her ear, "More importantly, has anyone aside from that twat McLaggen told you yet that you look absolutely breathtaking? I saw you and what happened with him and nearly missed the satisfaction of seeing the idiot hit the floor because you're so fucking distracting...bloody gorgeous..." Dotting kisses on her neck behind her earlobe he murmured warmly against her skin, "I'm curious to have a look at what you've got underneath this as well..."

She shivered, halfheartedly pushing him away to look to catch his eyes again, finding that dark and hungry look that she'd become so used to seeing directed at her. "Malfoy-"

"_Draco_," he corrected and returned to alternating between licking and kissing the hollow of her neck where it drew the most wistful and contented noises from her petite figure.

"_Draco_," Her voice was a soft whimper, head fogged and trying to grasp onto reasons why she should stop the way he was teasing her. "We..we can't-ah!-..oh...ohhh...mm...mmmmm..." Her posture slackened, sinking into him but she tried again, "What about the beast?" Hermione barely registered him guiding her backwards towards the table until the backs of her thighs bumped its edge. "The sun has already gone down..."

"I still have some time." Draco hefted her onto the table top, amused at her surprised yelp when he boldly yanked the front edge of her dress up over her hips so he could firmly nestle himself between her thighs, loosing a low growl at the heat he could feel emanating from that most prized treasure just inches away. He cupped the back of her neck and yanked her to him roughly, "And the longer you try to argue, the less time we'll have."

They had beat around the bush for so long already, trying to ignore the pull between them, magic or otherwise, with his dreams getting more and more vivid as the days went by. Even a year ago if anyone had asked if he could see himself shacking up with Granger he would have laughed them into another time zone and truly, if the idea hadn't been forcefully planted in his mind to start with he likely would never have pondered the possibilities, but now...having been _so close_ to taking her several times now, experiencing the way she moved and worked so well with him, he pondered those possibilities every Merlin damned night and day. It was certainly just the magic making him go crazy, but to hell with it. He needed to get her out of his system and he'd had his mind set before he came here tonight – no more fucking around, just fucking each other.

Hermione's hands were fisted in the fabric at his shoulders, her eyelids heavy and between the alcohol she consumed and the intoxicating smell of his cologne she could only nod. "Right then," she said simply and closed the gap between them much as she did in his Manor all those days ago, the familiar energy between them igniting like a sudden inferno.

She felt him snarling into her mouth then, attacking her lips with tooth and tongue like she was some sort of succulent dish that he couldn't get enough of. Hermione grunted when he pulled her forward again to the very edge of the table so he could grind against her heat, feeling her excitement pool at the spot between her legs and soak the thin garment covering her. His hardness burned with a scorching heat that she wanted to feel on her bare skin, in her hand, _inside her_. She wanted him to bury himself balls deep in her so she could feel every hard, hot inch of him. She wanted to wrap her muscles around him and squeeze until his eyes rolled back and he bellowed his climax, spasming violently inside of her. She wanted him, she wanted him in the worst way and it was making the very air around them seem to crackle and spark.

Draco left her mouth panting, taking in rapid, shallow breaths and any rational sense he may have had in him fled with the redirection of his blood flow. His hands fumbled behind her for the tiny zipper pull, frustrated when he couldn't find it, he just tugged her dress' neckline down to expose her delightfully bare breasts, dusky pink nipples perked and each tit bouncy and perfect. Swooping in with a deeply seated hunger, he closed his mouth over a pebbled nipple and rolled it between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue and pulling an exciting array of new sounds from her with each movement.

"Draco!" She moaned out when sharp points of teeth pinched her skin sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her thighs.

Before she even knew what she was doing, her hips began to move, rolling with a rhythmic ease to meet his teasing but firm thrusts against her. Her head lolled back to thump against the closest wall, lost in the sensation of his mouth and hands playing with her breasts, alternating between the two so not a one would be left out from his attentions. Seemingly done toying with them for now, he returned to her mouth to devour her kisses, humming with pleasure at the combination of her unique taste combined with the tart champagne. Hermione felt one of his hands move to her bare calf, massaging it before it trailed up to her knee, then the outside of her thigh and finally rested to dip to the inside of it with his thumb tracing along her slit through her sensible-but-cute cotton knickers causing her to whimper.

Draco felt the soft cotton under the calloused pads of his fingers and couldn't help the smirk he pressed against her lips. Leave it to her to look so stunning on the outside and still pick the most pragmatic panties to gallivant around in. _This_ was his real Hermione Granger, not the all dolled up version from his dreams.

_'_**_His_**_ Hermione_... '

The thought put him back on track quickly and he could feel the growing wet spot on the fabric and without thinking made to search out its source with his fingers. Tugging the offensive article of clothing to one side, his curious fingers found a neatly trimmed patch of curls that did nothing to hide the short path to that wetness he felt soaking his palm. Dancing down to her opening, they circled her entrance, coating his darkening digits in a silky and thick fluid that he had the most wicked urge to taste. He groaned deeply into her mouth at the thought, feeling his teeth shifting to larger, sharper versions of themselves and he pulled away – much to her displeasure judging by the disgruntled noise she made at the loss of contact – to slip a finger into his mouth.

His growl was deep and immediate, vibrating through him and rolling over the gooseflesh already broken out on the woman's arms and breasts. "Fucking exquisite-" That was all he said before his head had swiftly found its way to nestle between her legs, taking a deep inhale of her sex before he went to town.

Hermione made to say something coherent, she was sure, but all that came out was a strangled cry of surprise when his mouth latched onto her clit through the covering of her knickers. His saliva soaked the cotton sloppily and the sensation of his tongue dragging long and ragged strokes over her sensitive bud tore from her throat an unintelligible noise somewhere halfway between immense pleasure and monumental frustration. She thrust her hands into his hair, gripping the strands harshly, while each of his long pulls of tongue also wrenched from her an unrestrained and lascivious moan.

If she'd been in her right mind, Hermione would have noticed the clawed hands cupping her rear, the darkening hair of her male companion, and the horn points forming at his temples...instead she was intensely lost in the way his roughened tongue felt teasing her through the cotton while she draped her long legs over each of his shoulders and ground her crotch unapologetically into his shifting face, finding the growing horns a convenient handhold for her to use to urge him closer still. Hermione was spread before him wantonly, the only thing holding her up being her death grip on his head and the wall behind her. Her hips moved of their own accord, meeting each of his licks with a firm grind against his tongue. She felt the wave of pleasure building in her chest, her shoulders, her back; it was a slow tingle that built subtly at first in both frequency and power but intensified quickly to make her muscles begin to twitch and flutter with signs of her impending climax. The wet warmth left her suddenly but before the sound of protest could pass her lips, she felt a cool air ghost across her crotch and heard a ripping sound followed by a sharp jerk at her hips – the welcomed sound of her panties being forcibly removed and tossed aside.

The warmth of Draco's mouth returned immediately and when she felt his lips clamp back over to suck on the swollen bundle of nerves directly with no barrier between them, she arched off the table and into his skilled tongue. One hand dug firmly into his scalp and the other scrabbled at the wall behind her trying to stay her balance as her orgasm washed over her, her slick wetness flooding from between her legs to coat the newly grown fur covering Draco's chin and neck. Hermione's gutteral moan echoed in the small room, her hips wriggling and bucking against him frantically as he growled against her lapping up her juices and drinking deeply and hungrily the sweet honeyed taste of **_her_**.

Hermione's chest was still heaving by the time he finished tasting her and pulled his head from between her thighs. Draco took in her flushed skin, the scent of her still in his nose and on his tongue and he tugged her hips closer to him, rubbing his barely restrained hardness along her slit. He saw her eyes finally open to look at him and they widened in surprise, though only slightly, then narrowed again darting all around to take in his features. It was then he realized that the change had overtaken him but none of the usual agony accompanying it had been present to alert him – or at least he didn't notice it with his head buried in her crotch anyway. He tried to concentrate past her musky fragrance that fogged his brain and told him to fuck her straight away until she screamed herself hoarse though it was proving to be an uphill battle.

Hermione barely registered the reality of the situation, mind fuzzed and breathing still ragged, she focused more on the fact that he was right there; close enough that she could smell the scent of her sex on his breath as he panted but tried to restrain himself for some reason she couldn't puzzle out in her post-orgasmic brain. Her skin was hot, _so hot_, and she wanted to be free of this idiotic dress and didn't much care anymore for the formal robes that were strained and intermittently torn on his larger monstrous frame. She narrowed her eyes when he started to move away from her and gripped his dressy lapels to pull him to her, the only thing she _did_ care about at the moment being tasting herself on him and staking her claim on the man before her regardless of what form he occupied.

Draco groaned into her kiss, losing his mind with the way her tongue swept past his lips and fangs, savagely massaging the remnants of her juices from it and practically purring with possessive satisfaction in his mouth. He hefted her up off the table, her legs coming to clamp around his hips with one hand snaking between them trying to free him from his trousers. She nearly had them undone when he vaguely registered the sound of an angry shout then felt the sudden wave of pressure ram into him and thrust them both towards the far wall. Draco was barely able to turn in time to take the brunt of the impact, knocking the wind from him and denting the plaster.

Stunned by whatever the hell just happened, Hermione had no time to examine the situation since the angry caster took a rough hold of her wrist and pulled her away from the cradle of the ruddy beast's protective embrace and flung her behind _him_ instead. She stumbled over her dress shoes several steps, tripping over herself until she collapsed again near her previously discarded belongings, unceremoniously smacking the empty champagne glasses from their perch and landing on every single one of them in a heap the shards of glass adding insult to injury – or in actuality, _injury_ to injury. Hermione glared up sharply, her mind still not having caught up to what was happening aside from the fact **_someone_ **was keeping her from what she wanted, no, NEEDED and she had every intention of rectifying the problem. "Who the **fuck **do you- _Cormac_?!" '_Un-fucking-believable._'

The tall wizard held his eyes on the beast who was now shaking himself straight, trying to extract his body from the man sized crater he created in the wall only to be stopped by a shouted warning and pointed wand in his direction. "Don't move! I won't hesitate!" Cormac projected his voice back towards the witch who had by now covered her breasts back up and flipped the bottom of her dress back _down_. "Are you alright Hermione? Did this _thing_ hurt you? How did it even get in here anyway? ...and what's it wearing?"

From her spot on her hands and knees, Hermione gaped at the back of the man who continued to be the largest pain in her ass she'd ever bore witness to aside from Lord Voldemort himself. McLaggen had his head half turned from speaking to her and she could see the purple splotches already spreading over his sharp cheekbone and down the length of his jaw where she slugged him. She was sure she'd made her point perfectly clear and now here he was AGAIN, obviously having sought her out specifically, interrupting her moment with Malfoy. She snarled, the sound feral and very un-Hermione-like, "McLaggen, so help me if you don't leave **NOW**-"

Cormac shifted his full attention to her for just a second, eyes widened at the noise that came from the small woman behind him but before he could speak a word a blur of tattered black robes and reddish fur hit him like a ton of bricks. He quickly found himself face to face with a huge maw of bared fangs and molten silver eyes glittering angrily over him. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!"

Wincing at his girlish shriek, Hermione scrambled to her clutch shaking free of the glass shards and procured her wand, whipping it sharply at the meeting room's double doors, calling out the series of spells to close, lock, and silence the room. She rested back onto her knees, removing the remaining glass pieces from her hands while observing the huge, broad frame of Draco, towering over a ghostly white Cormac, openly snarling in a much better version of her earlier attempt. His once perfectly fitted robes were ripped and torn between his transformation and colliding with the building and it freed the pronounced haunch of his back, the thick mane of fur having pricked up in warning. His black lips curled back off his full set of razor sharp fangs, ears flattened against the sides of his head and one huge hand wrapped tightly around the wizard's neck hovering over him with his body a huge slab of threatening and coiled muscle ready to snap the man in half or tear his face off – for _her_.

Hermione swallowed, finding her previous arousal flaring to life again at the posturing and if she weren't already so far gone, she might find the decency to be hotly ashamed by that fact. Instead, she beckoned for him immediately, "_Draco._"

Draco's head snapped in the direction of her voice, ears flicked forward and he instantly recognized the tone for what it was, confirming it by scenting the air between them. He responded with a predatory growl and lick of the lips, tossing Cormac aside and stalking to her waiting arms on all fours, "_Hermione..._"

The thrill of the husky rumble of her name caused her an anticipatory shiver, eyes darkening again for him with no regards to the other man still in the room. Hermione's arms came up to circle his thickly furred neck, paying no heed to the blood she smeared over his coat, finding it only made him more _hers_ anyway. She leaned in, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth coyly when she felt one of his hands scoop under her rear and begin shifting her under him. The hiss to her right ripped her from their near coupling – _again_ – and she barely got her wand arm up in time to block the brunt of the severing charm aimed their way.

The metallic tang in his nose startled Draco away from the witch he was trying to very hard to get and keep in his grasp for _just long enough_...his eyes immediately locked onto the red line of blood blooming on the otherwise perfect skin of her right forearm and redirected to the source of the injury. Cormac stood, fuming at the both of them, wand outstretched again but this time the menacing look was directed at Granger as well – looks like the idiot finally understood the woman really wanted nothing to do with him. He felt every hair on his body stand on end at the threat McLaggen now posed to his witch and he quickly tucked her beneath him, behind the thick bands of his arms and under the protective cover of his barreled chest. Draco resumed his earlier dangerous snarl, his entire frame shaking now with a barely restrained outrage that the man would ever raise his wand to her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" McLaggen's normally haughty tone was all but gone. "Malfoy? I certainly wouldn't have recognized you on my own. Not sure what exactly happened to you but I'd almost say it's an improvement!" He sneered, creeping closer to the pair and sparing a glance to the brunette woman who was cradling her arm and putting pressure on her injury. "This? _THIS_ is what you turn me down for? This grotesque heap of-of-of FUR and FANGS? You could have ME and instead you go to this monster to get your rocks off? Tch, the two of you are bloody _sick_!"

"At least the last time I checked I _wanted_ him to touch me, sad to say I've never had that urge about you ever," Hermione snapped at him, "Oh wait, no, I'm not sad 'bout that last bit at all!"

This only made Cormac's sneer worse and he made motions to fling another hex their way. Hermione slashed her injured arm out to fling the same spell he'd tossed them aside with before back at him. For her, it was a sloppy flourish and made her grit her teeth in pain but even then the sparking power running through her spell caused him to hit the wall at his back and crumple into a heap.

Draco stalked to his motionless form, all the while making sure he was the largest and most solid object between the man's prone figure and Hermione. He nudged the wizard onto his back carelessly, just enough to make sure his chest was rising and falling well enough in time with the sound of his breathing and heartbeat. "He's alive," he huffed, disappointed.

Shakily getting to her feet again – finally – Hermione examined her arm before anything else. It was a shallow enough cut in the greater scheme of things, nothing that couldn't be helped along with a potion, but between the smeared red fluid there, over her hands and to a lesser degree, her knees, she looked a right mess. "Pity," her reply was cold. She crunched over shattered glass and crumbled plaster to stand over McLaggen. "Here's for old time's sake, '_love'._" Pointing her wand directly at him with an equally cold scowl and little flecks of gold sparkling in her chocolate eyes, she hissed, "_Confundo!"_

**_Wednesday, February 14, 2001 – __7__:__3__0PM – Valentine's Day_**

Hermione hurried Draco into her flat through the front door, having transfigured his robes into something with a hood to try and hide him as much as possible when she apparated them to the safe alley around the corner from the Muggle building. Once they were in, she locked everything manually and magically for extra precaution and made sure her fireplace was shut off from the network for the moment. She wasn't entirely sure why she thought to bring them here instead of the Manor, but it was the first place she thought of and it just felt _right_.

"I'm sorry about all the trouble, Malfoy, I had no ide—AH!"

Her apology was interrupted mid-turn when he hefted her up over his shoulder to carry her to what he presumed was the bedroom and deposited her onto her mattress. Hermione only had a few seconds to blink at him before he was on her again as though they'd never been interrupted in the first place. She would normally protest the abruptness of it all but instead just found herself groaning against his lips while he devoured her mouth, the draw between them heightening quickly and with more insistence, more power than ever before. He finally rid her of the burgundy gown she'd worn all evening, caring very little as to where it ended up as long as she was freed from it. She worked just as quickly to tear what was left of his clothing from his body, helping him shrug out of it by violently ripping it from him.

Sweet as her lips were, Draco longed to have her bare ass pressed against him to take her as roughly and savagely as possibly. In a swift movement he flipped her over, her surprised gasp making his groin clench. Bending her over the side of the bed, her still sandaled feet made her already long legs reach just the right height for her hips to be level with his own making him rumble appreciatively, claws sinking into her hipbones firmly. He nestled himself between her slick lips, dragging the length of him against her, enjoying the shameless way she pressed back into him with a moan stretched out before him with her hands clawing into the bed linens in frustration.

"Dracooo...I need you **_NOW_**_!_"

He'd refused her already once before and as he held himself flush against her, her perfect rear pressed to his muscled thighs, her legs spread only just enough apart to let his length slide against her, calves drawn tight and tempting in her red heels, and the long line of her back stretched in front of him with her mass of wild curls flipped up over her head, he couldn't remember for the life of him _why_.

With one single solitary motion he pulled his hips away and thrust into her all at once, filling her absolutely to the brim. She whipped her hair back over her shoulders, crying out in pleasure before she planted her face again into the sheets, panting urgently as her innermost muscles adjusted to the thickness of him. "_Ahh fuck!_" Hermione balled her hands into fists by her head and she cracked her eyes open to slits to look at him over her shoulder. "More!" she demanded of him harshly, shifting her pelvis to encourage him.

The feral noise that escaped him was full of want, and need, and lust, and desire. His eyes fluttered shut at the way she clamped down around him insistently, tugging at the head of his cock and ordering him to move. Draco dragged his sharp blackened nails over her ass, letting the dark calloused pads rove over the plump firmness of it and delighting in the way she shivered and fluttered around him. After a brief exploration and tracing pink welted lines into her flesh, her walls clenching progressively harder around him as he did so, he raked a hand down her pale back to bunch in her hair and jerk her upright. Draco snarled again into her ear, tickling the inner shell of it with his tongue and growling a barely intelligible, "_**MINE**._" It was the last coherent word spoken between the two before he started driving into her relentlessly from behind, one hand on her hip and the other holding her up roughly by her hair with her head tilted so he could taste her lips.

Hermione wound an arm up and around to grip at one of his horns, keeping his lips securely fastened to hers, only breaking apart when he would ram into her so firmly that it tore passionate moans from her throat. She'd waited for this – _by Merlin she'd waited for this_ – for far too many days. With every thrust of his hips he filled her up, almost uncomfortably, hitting a sweet spot on her front wall that broke her skin into goosebumps again and again and again, building an ever budding tremble that started in her shoulders and was fast spreading down her spine to her feet. She pushed her ass against him rowdily, his thighs bracing themselves on either side of hers to hold her legs tightly enough together that with each of their movements her lower lips rubbed against her clit, furthering her pleasure.

Hermione could feel his blood pounding through his cock with how tightly she kept him, every rushing pulse, every twitch pushing her closer to her release and dragging him right alongside. The feel of his tongue in her mouth, frenzied kisses and bites, his teeth piercing the plump flesh of her lip, dragging down over her neck and shoulder readying to mark her again like she knew he'd wanted to ever since the first one faded, the sculpted expanse of muscled chest and arms covered in that cursed pelt – all the sensations built at a speeding pace that started her on her inevitable descent. She felt his grip shift back to her hips and slip under her ass, fully supporting her now and using his strength to slide her up and down on his shaft, his bucking movements becoming more and more frantic.

Draco buried his face in the crook of her neck and shoulder, inhaling their mingled scents with nothing in his mind beyond claiming the woman and her womb. Snarls and growls and murmurs disappeared into her shoulder and he could feel the sharp bite of her nails into his hide, breaking the skin and causing him a bodily shudder. She squeezed and milked at his member, her muscles coaxing every clench and uncontrolled jerk of his hips from him. The sensation of her muscles squeezing him in a wave from base to tip and every harsh tug on the base of his head was just too much. He finally sank his teeth fully into her shoulder, not at all gentle like he had tried to be before, anchoring her in place as his hips thrust into her jerkily with wild abandon and his balls churned, dick spasming _hard_ fully emptying himself into her.

Hermione rode out her orgasm atop his cock, bucking like a horse with the only thing keeping him inside her being his iron grip on her hips. She tossed her head back over his shoulder, arching her back and grinding back against him as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her and made stars dance behind her eyelids. The euphoric scream that ripped through her shook the walls, the heated energy that always surrounded them when they were together gathered sharply, flashing and sparking, exploding any of her nearby electronics with loud shatters and pops, small tendrils of cool white lightning arcing between them to destroy every light nearby and plunge them into total darkness, the two of them collapsing forward to the mattress with Draco catching himself before he crushed her under his weight.

Draco kept her hips still but removed his hold on her shoulder, growling warningly whenever she would try to move. Hermione was still breathing heavily, thoroughly worked over by the man she still held deeply within her, a powerful, pleasure filled ache stationed from her lower belly to her toes. He twitched inside her – she shivered, finding herself growing excited even now at the prospect of more. She turned her head to him, finding his face in the darkness, ghosting the tip of her nose over his odd muzzle, a sound something akin to a throaty and mellow purr escaping her at the affectionate nuzzle she received. She kissed him then, the hand she had buried in his mane, lightly bloodied from her roughness with him coming to cup his cheek and brush over the parts of his lips she couldn't cover at once with hers. She tasted herself on him...and it tasted _right_.

_He moved within her again._

_She laid claim to him._

_Their blood mingled._

_They were lost._


	18. Chapter 17 - The True Beast

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** A bit short but this has a teensy bit of plot that works better on its own. Hope you enjoy. Oh and speaking of plot, I just want you to know that several of you readers/reviewers - who shall remain unnamed so as to not completely spoil things to come - sometimes shock me with how nail-on-the-head you are with predictions. I have this entire story outlined and am just putting the flesh into it as I go and some of the things you all predict...well...good job. :) As always, please continue to read and review as you so choose.

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**__****Thursday, February 15, 2001 – 5:00AM**

"_You are mad, woman!"_

_Belle sorely pushed to her hands and knees, blood dripping from her swollen and busted lip. Faint sounds of ping, ping, ping where the droplets hit her rose pendant dangling off her neck were the only things she could hear beyond the rushing heartbeat in her ears. She clenched her hands to fists, feeling the bite of her fingernails into her palms, chest heaving with exhaustion from the duel with her fiance._

_The man pointed his wand at her wearily, his pearly white sneer visible beyond his own smears of blood and soot. He circled her, eyes never leaving her trembling figure hunched in the center of the blazing room. His blonde hair had long since come loose from his ponytail and it hung raggedly around his face and shoulders, his other hand's grip tightening on the woman's pale vine wood wand as though it were his lifeline._

"_I am afraid we will be calling off the wedding. A Malfoy can't be seen with the criminally insane after all."_

_Flames burned around the both of them, eating away at the expensive drapes decorating the windows and licking at the walls, ceiling, and what remained of their broken furniture. It was only a matter of time before they would consume the room and its occupants completely. The man kept his focus on the small woman in front of him all the while backing towards the only clear path from the room._

_The witch shook, she shook with many things inside of her all trying to escape: sadness, anger, hatred, longing, love. She loved this man, despite his transgressions, she loved him and it hurt her, it consumed her. Her obsession with the handsome Malfoy had taken her over entirely. Belle began this fight, she set their future home ablaze in her rage, she knew she had a temper...but it didn't make it hurt less that he was more willing to leave her there to burn in the fire she had created than give her the time of day. It was so hot in the large room, sweltering even, her lifeblood continued to drip from all of her injuries onto the heated stone floor, sizzling away from the heat, sinking into the very foundation of the home._

_Rhydderch glanced behind him again, checking his route to the doorway to the foyer then returned his gaze to the woman to find her still there and unmoved. He would leave her here, she was sure to perish in the flames. But if she were to escape... He had already seen her anger unleashed once before and she was truly a force of power – all over a couple of women, no less! No, he needed to be sure she was dead before he left this room. It was decided then._

"_Sorry love, can't have you following me out!"_

_The realization of the situation came quickly to her although it seemed that time itself slowed. He wasn't just going to leave her here to burn, he was going to kill her and allow the flames to consume her. She heard the movement of something large grating against the floor a moment before it was lifted. Crackles and pops louder than the others echoed in her head from the fire eating the lacquer off one of the cabinets, its precious contents spilling out and shattering to pieces as her future husband levitated it forward. She heard the harsh whisper of his spell and the rushing of air and roar of flames speeding in her direction._

_How could he?..._

_How dare he.._

_..how DARE he..._

_...HOW **DARE** HE!_

_That familiar trembling rage spread to every bit of her slim and shaking body, spilling over and flooding her vision with red. Belle snarled from her spot on the floor, turning with a hand curled like talons to swipe at the offending object soaring her way having been willed by Rhydderch to crush her with its force. Without her wand her magic was messy, unfocused, but with the vengeful anger flooding through her veins it mattered not._

"_**EXPULSO!**"_

_The room was overtaken by a brilliant blue light, overshadowing the orange of the flames around him. The cabinet burst into thousands of pieces at her roar, shattering mid-flight and spreading shards of flaming wood in all directions as though it were a piece of delicate glass dropped to shatter on a stone. The walls of the Manor shook with the force of the blast, shattering also the windows along the walls at once from the shuddering pressure and freeing the fire and smoke to spread out and up the outer sides of the building. Rhydderch was thrown with such velocity against the nearest wall he felt his ribs crack by the blow, his breath leaving him completely from the explosion that he was left panting in pain trying to regain it. _

_His vision blurred from the smoke, coughing and choking on what remained. He heard Belle's harshly accented voice through the air and the flames were enveloped in cold blue light, changing their hue and nature and casting the sitting room in an eerie ethereal glow. They no longer worked to rip the Manor apart and instead spread their even warmth near the objects they still attached themselves to; they might have actually been comforting if they were not still clinging to practically every corner of the room. What remained of the smoke was swept forcefully through the broken windows of the sitting room with a sharp sweep of her arm. He struggled to sit upright, sparing a glance forward and what he saw made his chest clench and stomach drop in fear._

_There his fiancee stood, her previously white nightgown blackened and shredded, barely still hanging off her shoulders as she began her approach. The exposed flesh of her arms and legs were smudged by ash and blood, her right hand had secured her wand once again, must having somehow retrieved it after he dropped it in the explosion. The air hummed with her magic, it was a tangible thing that roiled off her skin and sparked between them, licking at him like the flames that still surrounded them both. Her hair flared out around her dancing in the conjured wind and whipping about like angry serpents about her face, and her eyes...her eyes – **those ****eyes** – they glared straight into him, internally lit by an intense liquid gold that shimmered and was now tinted with the unnatural blue-white light of the fire she padded through making them reflect back like a cat's in the darkness. Those eyes screamed to him for vengeance. She looked the embodiment of Erinys herself, an infernal goddess come from the Nether to judge him and punish him for his misdeeds._

"_Incarcerous!" _

_Belle hissed again, golden ropes spewed from her wand to coil around Rhydderch's prone form, constricting until they bit harshly into his skin and made him cry out in pain. She jerked her arm sharply with a snarl and several of the ropes extended themselves upward to wrap around the ceiling beams loosened in her earlier blast, effectively stringing him up to dangle before her. The witch padded towards him slowly, methodically, her bare feet crunching through broken glass and the still hot charred wood, cutting and searing her flesh and trailing the blood of her injuries behind her in a gruesome way though she was so focused on the man wriggling in his cocoon before her she never seemed to notice._

"_I love you..." Her voice was a low growl, "Yet you somehow deem me unworthy of you...you choose to entertain these...these **whores** instead. I would give you my love for eternity, a family, something to be proud of, but that is not enough for you is it?"_

"_Belle...Rose, love I—ACHH." Another rope snapped to life and wrapped tightly around his neck, tightening until he was red in the face. _

"_I AM NOT FINISHED SPEAKING!" She took a deep breath visibly trying to calm herself but the trembling of her shoulders gave her away. Belle turned to him pleadingly, busted lip shaking with barely restrained desperation. "Why...why don't you love me, Rhydderch? I have been faithful, I have been kind, I have given you all that you asked of me, so WHY?"_

_Rhydderch continued to struggle against his bonds, offering her only a stubborn glare. He managed to choke out his answer, although he would quickly find it was most assuredly the worst one he could offer, "You're a fucking crazy bitch!"_

_Any softness that had managed to seep into her expression before was quickly drained and swiftly replaced with her violent fury. Her roar of anguish reverberated through the corridors as she sliced her wand through the air and severed the ropes suspending him before her. He collapsed to the ground with a loud grunt but was granted no reprieve as her immaculately controlled Deprimo hit, pressing him into the floor beneath him instead of pushing straight through. It was a brilliantly altered spell, truly, or he would have thought so if he weren't feeling the way she suspended it as punishment against him like an invisible pestle waiting to grind him into a fine poultice against the stone beneath his chest._

"_Fine then. You do not want me? You prefer the slags you entertain nightly? **FINE THEN**. Allow me to grant you a favor." She growled and flourished her wand with her bloodied grip to flip him to his back so he could glare at her properly. "Perhaps if you are so eager to rut with every bitch that wafts the smell of her twat in your nose as they pass then you should look as the beast that you act!"_

_His eyes widened, not entirely understanding her plans but knowing that no good could come of the threat. "B-Belle, pl-ea-s-"_

_She ignored his forced pleas, relinquishing more of her hold from the Deprimo with a resounding crack of his ribs, further damaging them to illustrate her displeasure. "No. We shall see what the other 'bitches' you so desire think when you are a hideous monster. Let us see who you are left with THEN!"_

_His lips moved to try and protest but before he could, she thrust her wand at him again, maniacal eyes lit with her revenge and a dark, dark curse upon her swollen lips that coiled down her arm, bled into the floor, the walls, everything. Dark tendrils of magic lashed out and latched onto his form wrapping around his limbs like leeches sucking away at his humanity to devour it whole. _

_It felt like she'd cast another Expulso behind his eyelids. Screams filled the Manor and he knew only in the back of his mind that they belonged to him. Rhydderch's back bowed off the floor, his previously cracked bones mending painfully as they thickened and reformed into something distinctly inhuman. Thick black nails burst from his fingers and toes, curling into menacing claws as his insides ground against each other until they were satisfied in their new placement. His form became easily twice as large as it was before, chest barreled, back haunched, legs thickly muscled and bent to resemble something like a large wolf's hindquarters. Rhydderch scrabbled at the stone, claws gouging hash marks into it to cope with the pain of his skull shattering and mending to form one that would be better suited to a bison bull than a Malfoy man. Curled horns burst through his thickened skin and his ears elongated, flitting back and forth and testing their mobility. Another scream, this one more a throaty bellow than anything else, tore from him as his newly made muzzle filled with deadly sharp fangs. Coarse copper colored fur flooded into place over his skin, thicker lines of it settling down his spine and chest to create the perfectly menacing picture of a ghastly looking beast._

_Belle circled the beast, wand at her side as she eyed her fiance studiously appraising her work. "Do not worry darling...I am sure that your beautiful women will see past the monster and give you their love to free you from this prison..."_

_Rhydderch's ears flicked at her speech and he lunged at her suddenly, baring his teeth and claws with the intent to rip her apart. "BITCH!"_

_Snapping her arm up with nary a flinch, she sent him soaring backwards to crash through the charred settee and land in a heap of splintered wood. Belle followed his path again crunching through the remnants of their beautiful home to stand over him. She looked down on him with a coldness that replaced the fiery rage that was there only moments before, inflicting another Deprimo on his large form. _

"_You...were promised to me. You belong to **me**...the sooner you realize this, the sooner we will be able to be happy." He struggled against the force of her magic and it only made her whip it at him again to paralyze him instead. Belle sneered at him then, a look any Malfoy would be envious of. "I will allow you your fun. Go. Fuck your bitches if they will have you now. Get it out of your system because I expect you to take your vows." She moved to the side of his frozen body, kneeling by his head and stroking delicate fingers through the fur at his face lovingly, "I will give you until your next birthday. If we have not wedded by sunset then you shall remain this way...forever." Jerking the rose shaped pendant from its spot at her neck she whispered a Portus over it and dropped it on the other side of his head before leaning over to kiss his beastly maw softly, sweetly. "Use this to come to me once you are finished with your foolishness. I will wait for you in my family's summer home, my quarters are in the West Wing. Remember...your time is short. You have until sunset of your next birthday to take your vows. Then and only then are you welcome to my flower you were so eagerly trying to pluck all this time." _

_She smirked to herself and stepped away again, distancing herself from his plank-like form. She released the body-bind curse and saw his blur of movement scrambling for her swiftly right before the familiar tug behind her bellybutton pulled her from Malfoy Manor with a POP! Rhydderch's lumbering body dove for the space that was previously occupied by his betrothed finding only air and the lingering sent of soot and roses. His huge mass slid into the closest wall rather ungracefully and massive clawed fists pounded into the ground turning to destroy the remnants of the room with incited hatred until the energy finally drained from him and he sank to his knees. _

_Rhydderch tossed his head back in a mournful __howl__ that flooded through the walls and carried into the night._

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

Snoring. It was light and rhythmic and coming from just behind her head. Hermione's eyes felt glued shut, she tried to open them but they felt so incredibly heavy. She groaned softly and shifted on her side and immediately froze when she felt the familiar press of a body and a certain intimate part of that body's anatomy nestled between her butt cheeks – her eyes now had no trouble snapping open _then_.

Daylight filtered in softly through her quaint little blinds, illuminating her room and causing the memories of yesterday evening to come flooding back like a tidal wave. The first thing she noticed was that those blinds were pretty much the only thing in her bedroom not completely annihilated. From her spot on her ratted up comforter on the floor she surveyed the damage. Her bed and its other linens had deep gouges dug into it, rips and tears easily visible from there and she thought she even saw little shreds of padding sticking out of the mattress. The frame itself appeared to be broken if the way the whole thing sloped down at an incline was any true indication. Anything and everything that had once found itself set upon her nightstand or dresser had found new homes with the floor and in many cases seemed to have seen fit to broken or shattered themselves in the process. The small TV she had kept in her bedroom completely exploded along with her ceiling light and lamps in the room, dusting the walls with ceramic and glass particles in the most interesting of patterns. Hell, even her curtains were in shambles, the rod having come loose halfway to cut across the window at an angle and curtains dangled in shreds.

Hermione turned her head to look at the man at her back and winced sharply when the aches from last night made themselves very much known. The soreness between her legs was the most noticeable, it wasn't entirely unpleasant if she were to be honest, but her muscles still ached and twitched. Even now she could feel a puddle of their combined fluids sticking the insides of her thighs together where it leaked from her during the night. When instead of '_gross_' crossing her mind a pleasurable shiver shook her down to her toes, she knew she'd finally completely and utterly lost her marbles.

Her shiver roused Draco from his slumber. The arm she had been using as a pillow and the one draped over her side at the dip of her waist both tightened, pulling her closer into the heat of his bare body. "Morning..." his voice was barely more than a low growl this morning between the evening's activities and the thick blanket of sleep still covering it.

"Morning.." she replied awkwardly, staring straight ahead, eyes shocked open and her body stock still as though if she were to move she would startle a particularly dangerous animal. All things considered, that might have been the most accurate description of her predicament.

Draco moved his head to bury his nose in her hair, the tip of it brushing the back of her neck affectionately where it was hidden in her mass of hair. He inhaled deeply and tightened his arms again until she was flush against his skin, hips grinding against her rear languorously. Eyes still shut, he placed soft contented kisses along the back and top of her shoulder as though he'd be pleased to do nothing more than this all day.

Hermione let out an equally contented sigh before she could stop herself, lids drooping again. He was like a furnace on a particularly cold winter's day and she felt she couldn't have been warmer if she were wrapped in dozens of fluffy jumpers and coats to top it off. Preferring more to focus on how the length of him was now sliding under her backside along the insides of her thighs to nudge at her entrance, she took the edge of her still swollen lip between her teeth and bit it to stifle her soft mewl.

He cracked his eyes open then, little silver slits honed in on her exposed flesh in front of him, possessiveness welling in his chest instantly upon seeing the heavily bruised and bitten shoulder there. His rumbled growl caused her to shiver again and he shifted his grip on her hip to her thigh to lift and support it and give him room and a better angle to enter her on their sides. He wasted no time, prodding at her expertly by this point, and thrust into her with a firm push of his hips.

Hermione moaned deeply, her eyes rolling back and both her hands searching for something to grip onto at the sudden sensation of being filled yet again by Draco. They were both so driven by the magical haze last night, not to mention _his_ more animalistic instincts, that the count of times they had sex was lost to either of them. Her muscles, inside and out, were all so sore, so sensitive, like nerve endings exposed but, even so, she felt the desire to be taken by him again still there. She tried to hold tight to her coherent mind, but seeing as it hadn't awoken yet she let her primal one take the lead.

One hand managed to fist in the fluffy comforter beneath them, the other still scrabbling and searching for something to hold onto as he slowly but firmly slid in and out of her folds. When he pulled out to just shallowly pump into her so just the tip of him worked his steady rhythm to rub along the sweet spot on her front wall and make her clamp and tug at his head she felt the fingers of his left hand interlock with her own searching one. Between the sensations he built within her, pushing her ever closer to her euphoria, she glanced up to look at their clasped hands. His larger one held her own, his palm to the back of hers, their arms both outstretched before them where they lay on their left sides in a deceptively intimate way. From the angle she could see both of their marks laying next to each other much as they did now – his fading and dull Dark Mark and her '_Mudblood_' scar – and it made something ache inside her.

As quickly as it came, it was gone, replaced again with the slow and lazy pleasuring she was receiving from the man at her back. Her muscles worked to methodically tense and massage him, maximizing each of his long driven strokes with the most well timed squeezes that she'd learned he quite enjoyed. His reflexive gutteral moan and shudder spread a tremor through her, the sounds of his unrestrained noises of pleasure exciting her more and filling her with the most self-satisfied womanly pride that it was her to unmake him as she did.

"_Draco.._." she whimpered pleadingly, knowing he would understand what she needed.

With a growl, Draco buried his face further into her neck, tugging the flesh over her pulse point into his mouth to suck on it as something he also came to learn drove her _mad_. Sneaking a leg between hers to take the place of his hand for support of her thigh, he snaked his now free hand up and over her hip to comb his fingers through her short matted curls and find the sensitive pearl waiting to be given his attentions. Swirling his middle and ring fingers down to sample her wetness from his shaft, he used the slick lubrication to dance around her clit, toying with it delicately in time with his strokes.

In contrast to his beast's dangerous mitts, Draco's fingertips were smooth and hardly calloused, gliding over her swollen nub with ease and drawing her closer with every soft circle that he made. The combination of his mouth, his fingers, his movements, his embrace – it all took her suddenly by surprise and her hips jerked forward at the onset of her climax. She heard a muffled rumble at her neck where he still suckled, felt it at her back, and Draco's leg curled more tightly over hers to lock her in place and steady her enough so he could rove his madness inducing circles over her clit all the way through and past her orgasm. The rush of pleasure took her completely, her tight body wriggling and twisting in his arms as it searched for escape and finally settled on just curling her toes and clenching her inner walls solidly around him.

"_Fuck!_" Draco ripped his mouth from her neck, head thrown back with a surprised grunt at how she clamped down around him like an iron vice. His hips pressed wholly into her, as close as physically possible, and he came, emptying everything he had into her at her body's insistence to squeeze him dry. Breathing labored, he plopped his head against her lightly sweat dampened curls and grunted again, "Fuck..." Draco ran his lips over her bruised shoulder, dragging his tongue over the partially healed teeth marks, tugging on the skin a little, and then placing a soft kiss there before replacing it with his forehead. "_Good _morning."

Hermione chuckled hoarsely and nodded, "Good morning."

She felt different – for reasons aside from the obvious, that is. She felt pleased, comfortable, content, safe. All feelings that Hermione couldn't say she'd ever associate to any personal experience with Draco Malfoy. All feelings that if she were to analyze them side-by-side would probably say she didn't always feel with Ron. It wasn't as though she had a lot of experiences in dating, but with what she did have, she could definitely tell this felt..._different. _She felt Draco reposition them again, removing himself from her with an involuntary gasp and shiver and making movements to draw enough of the sheet the were on back over them with the apparent intent to curl back up and nap some more. In her post-coital bliss, Hermione thought it was probably the second best idea he had so far – the first being the morning shag – and she hunkered back down into his heat, curling her legs towards her center and feeling his seed leaking out of her and down the front and back of her thigh...

Her eyes shot open.

"SHIT!"

Draco was jostled from his near sleep by a frantic Granger, tossing the sheet from them both and smacking at his arms and legs until he finally let her up. He watched her scramble to her feet, eyes darting about the room, obviously searching for something, "Granger, what are you-"

"Where, where, where, where, where, WHERE?"

He blinked, concerned at the way she was tugging at her hair and trying not to be distracted by the way the best parts of her were jiggling and his cum dripped down her legs. "Where? Hermione what are you on about?"

Hermione snapped her head to him, eyes wide and panicked, "We had SEX, Draco!"

Blinking again he prompted her with a small nod and an arched brow, "Yeaaaah. I was there. I realize this. Now what-"

"SEX! Draco, we just had a _LOT_ of sex," at his still blank look she yelled at him in frustration, "WITHOUT PROTECTION!"

'_Oh. Oh...oh._' To his credit, he did well not to blanch too horribly when the gears finally all clicked into place and he realized **_exactly_ **what she was on about. Pushing to his feet he stifled his groan at his own aches and looked for his clothing – or what remained of it. He found his pile of clothes, ripped and tattered from either his transformation or the woman now tossing things about in her search. Intent on finding his trousers to at least slip those on before he helped her, he dug through his clothing pile, a hollow wooden sound thunking against the nightstand.

Hermione's head spun in the direction of the sound and suddenly her naked figure came clambering over the bed to close the distance. She looked wild eyed until she saw the wand laying on the carpet and dove for it, it was Draco's but it should work just the same. She muttered a contraceptive spell and turned her gaze finally to her partner in crime, eyes wide and maybe a teeny bit frightened.

He frowned at her and by the look on her face, she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Hey..."

"No," she said firmly, "It will work."

"But-"

"NO. It will work. It's soon enough after all the...the...the-"

"Shagging?"

"- s_ex_ to still be effective. It's within twenty four hours, surely it'll be effective enough. Like a morning after pill!"

"A what?"

"NEVERMIND. Just...just help me find my clothes please."

Draco's frown deepened, she was shaking like a leaf and searching for her red gown from the evening before forgetting that this was even her room and she clearly had other more comfortable clothing within easy access in her dresser. He pulled the hooded cloak from his pile of clothing and approached her with it, stilling her long enough to wrap it around her shoulders. Draco took firm hold of her chin between his thumb and forefinger and made her look at him, trying not to draw back at the openly terrified look in those big brown eyes.

"Hey, Granger – Hermione – relax. It'll work. You're the most accomplished witch around, _it will work._"

She sniffed, willing back the tears threatening to spill at the most reckless mistake she may have ever made, trying not to let her mind run through every single scenario – good and bad – that are likely to happen. "Thanks...Draco.." Hermione hesitated a moment but came forward awkwardly, wrapping her cloak covered arms around his naked midsection, pressing her cheek to his chest and staring off into space.

Draco stumbled a step but his arms came up around her almost automatically. He could hear her racing heart pounding in his ears, feel it beating against his own chest and could feel the tiniest of trembles from her shoulders. He found himself stroking a hand down her wild hair, smoothing it down soothingly, while the other rubbed unconscious circles between her shoulderblades as he too stared straight off to the air in front of him trying to remain as stoic as possible while all the while all he could think was:

'_Bloody buggering hell..._'


	19. Chapter 18 - The Bonding

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** Apologies for the delay, I think there was a bit of trouble there for a day or two uploading things and I also have managed to get sick over the holiday. Plot is happening. This may be my last update prior to the New Year due to some vacation plans, I will try for one more but no promises. Please continue to read and review as you so choose.

* * *

**__****Thursday, February 15, 2001 – 6:30AM**

Hermione stood before the electric range in her flat, spatula in one hand and a quilted mitt with the face of a cartoonish looking pig on the back of it covering the other. She held the cast iron skillet's handle aiming her blank stare at the pancakes cooking themselves to perfection on the hot pan. On either side of the stove were plates piled with far too much food for two people, strips of bacon all crisscrossing over each other sharing a plate with darkened maple flavored sausage links. A large bowl with a big batch of fluffy scrambled eggs sat next to the other large plate that had several already cooked pancakes ready, waiting to be topped off with her last couple circles of cooked batter. Her stare focused on her task, her mind was everywhere but there and it had been ever since she'd left Draco's presence to take a shower – _alone_ – and was left with nothing but the hot running water and her thoughts.

All the possible outcomes of their torrid evening together soared through her head, she knew the nature of the charm she used after the fact and that it was meant for preventative measures and not reactionary ones by any stretch of the imagination. How could she be so stupid? Brightest witch of her age, her ass! Mentally chastising herself again and again she huffed at her irresponsible behavior. She knew there was nothing else she could do for it at this point except for wait and see, '_And not lay a finger on the man in the other room ever again._' Hermione scooped the last of the pancakes from the pan and dropped it on top of the stack with the others, shutting the stove off, and sighing heavily. She knew very well _that_ idea wasn't going to work.

The two of them had tried to avoid each other for the better part of a month and it just made everything that much worse, so to speak...considering the night itself up to the point she realized her gross oversight was actually the best night of sex she'd _ever_ had. Granted, her partners were quite limited, but the statement still stood. She wasn't completely daft, she knew that the curse brought them together, it propelled them to do what they did, but she felt something – something she couldn't truly explain and something she really wasn't ready to fully evaluate at this point. Their coupling had been urgent and primal but they still were so in tune to one another. He knew how to touch her, how much, how little, what to say, when, when not to, and she the same for him based purely on instinct and habit. It was something they'd built over years upon years of passing each other in the halls, dealing with each other in the classrooms, the Great Hall, growing up alongside one another and unconsciously learning all of their ins and outs be it as enemies or strained acquaintances. The realization that she'd known him for just about half of her life made her brows furrow in the direction of the plates of food.

"Did they say something foul? Need I issue disciplinary measures? I'm certified in that, you know."

Startled, Hermione whipped her head around to see Draco standing in the doorway to the kitchen, hair tousled and spiked in various directions, freshly toweled off from his shower. He wore a pair of dull gray but comfortable looking sweatpants and a faded blue t-shirt that had flakings of an old band logo on it, both items she'd transfigured to fit him properly. His chest pulled at the shirt still, the outline of his pecs and abdomen showed as darker damp spots where the fabric had gotten wet from being pulled on too soon. She licked her lips unconsciously, wanting to sneak her fingers under the knit material and trace the muscles herself. Hermione's wandering eyes finally found his face, that git smirk having returned to its proper home on his features after their rather exciting morning.

"Granger?"

"Breakfast! Breakfast is ready," she said breathlessly.

Draco arched an eyebrow and padded to her, bare feet making soft little suction noises on the vinyl as he closed to a safe distance. "I can see that," he nodded to the copious amounts of food behind her, "Looks like you're feeding an army of Weasels there."

She blinked, confused for a second and realized what he meant after eying all the food for a second, turning a becoming shade of pink. "Oh. Sorry, I was distracted..."

"Just a joke," he shook his head and plucked the pig mitt and spatula from her hands, placing them on a free spot of counter and made to start carrying the plates to her small dining area. "Come on, let's not waste all the effort, I could smell the bacon from the shower."

Hermione sighed but followed after him with the remaining food and some empty plates and utensils for them. Making himself awfully comfortable already, wasn't he? "Yes, I need to get dressed for work and face whatever fate it is I have waiting for me at the office. I don't think it will win me any more favors if I show up in my cow pajamas." She took the proffered seat he slid out for her after a moment of him looking at her a bit impatiently.

"No need to worry about that. I spoke with The Minister this morning, it's all taken care of."

"You WHAT?" She shot back up from the chair, knocking the back of it into his chest in her haste, causing him to grunt and glower. Hermione turned, suddenly frantic all over again automatically assuming the worst, "When did you have time to do that? What did you possibly tell him to excuse me from missing work?! Why were you speaking to him about me at all? Did you bribe him? You can't just wave money at problems and make them go away, Malfoy! I am on _probation_ or have you forgotten? He can't know what we did last night,it's bad enough that I left early yesterday, I can't just miss today as well! I can't—MMPH!"

Even though he was a touch sore both at the blow to his chest and the assumed jab at his methods for helping her, Draco yanked her to him, lips slanting over hers in the most effective way to silence her. His kiss was firm at first then when he felt her shoulders release some of their tension he lessened the press of it as well. He'd half expected her to haul off and slap him after her hot and cold morning thus far, instead her hands slid up from his stomach and stilled lightly at his chest while his own were divided between resting lightly atop her hip with the other gently tangled in her dark hair. She hadn't let him touch her again yet ever since they parted ways for her to have her shower and, much to his dismay, he realized that he'd been craving her from the moment she was gone from his sight. He didn't think she'd welcome him barging into her bathroom to forcibly join her – not at first anyway – but he controlled himself well enough and made a floo call to Kingsley while she freshened up. Apparently, 'getting her out of his system' wouldn't be as simple as he was hoping it would be when the brilliant idea occurred to him yesterday to finally take her. Or after that when he took her again. Or even after that when _she_ took control a time or two...or this morning when he gave her a wake up call.

Hermione sighed softly into his mouth, the anxiety that was previously coursing through her seemed to fizzle when he held her, when he even just touched his skin to hers she felt it bleed away. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew this was crazy and she cursed at the magic that was driving her on, but she still couldn't find the energy in her to refuse his caresses and kisses and she was beginning to worry where the pull of the spell ended and her own desires began. Somehow she suspected that being in her right mind would not entail having several sessions of raunchy sex with the man that bullied her in school, who happened to also be her client, _while_ she was on probation at said occupation, during times where he was either a man or monstrous beast that she apparently couldn't find it in her to even be phased by – and the latter she, scarily enough, seemed to enjoy far too much. When she heard herself release a mewl of contented pleasure at the hand slipping up the back of her shirt to massage along her bare back, she mentally ticked off another point in her argument – no, definitely not in her right mind...though it was also becoming more and more difficult to care.

The witch pulled away for air, taking long gulps of oxygen, cheeks rosy and eyes half-lidded to look up at him darkly, hiding her womanly smirk at his rumble of disapproval at the loss. "You can't just snog me whenever I'm about to say something you don't want to hear," her chiding lost some of its edge due to her breathlessness.

Draco smirked down at her, guiding her arms from between them allowing his fingers to trail down her exposed skin and bring her hands to his lips to kiss the knuckles on each, one set then the other, "I suppose not, that would have me snogging you all the time with that know-it-all mouth of yours." He shrugged, "Can't blame a bloke for trying though." He dodged the smack to his arm and attempted to coax her back into her chair, "And as I said last night, you don't need to worry about your job."

She huffed and folded her arms ignoring the nagging chill at her spine that took root as soon as his hands released her. Hermione channeled her previous train of thought, jutted her hip to one side and looked at him expectantly, refusing to sit. "I'll need you to elaborate."

He sighed and motioned to her chair again, "Indulge me?"

Rolling her eyes and finally reclaiming the seat, she waited for him to take his own across from her before she resumed her earlier posture – sans hip jutting.

"Well...I talked to Shacklebolt last night like I told you before...and again this morning while you had your shower. I may have mentioned that there was a strong possibility that while assisting me on my case that you perhaps came into contact with a cursed object that may or may not have had an effect on your disposition yesterday evening."

Hermione's eyes grew wide, "What? Malfoy, you can't just fling this information around to just anybody! What if he finds out what we did? You and I, what we're doing! Can you even _fathom_ how quickly they'll fire me?!" When she made to get up again, Draco fixed her with a pointed stare, brows drawn firmly in a stern line and his finger pointing downwards as if in warning that she should really stay put. She harrumphed openly but plopped back down, glaring with flared nostrils and her arms folded in protest watching him begin dishing out their meal once satisfied she wasn't getting up again.

"Relax Granger," he rumbled softly, "I didn't tell him any of _that. _I just told him what he needed to hear to use all that silly power he has to keep you out of trouble. Especially for something as long-time coming as decking McLaggen." At the heated look she was still glaring his way, he sighed with a dramatic shrug of his shoulders and slumped back in his chair, his right hand toying with his fork and rolling the handful of sausages he'd grabbed earlier around his plate. "So I may have told him a _little_ about the nature of the case you're working on..."

"DRACO!"

"WHAT?!" He growled, mimicking her folded arm posture, "Look. You trust Shacklebolt, right?"

That took her off guard, "What?"

"Yes or no? You trust him?"

"Well...yes of course, but-"

"Then there's no reason not to let him in on this. Besides, I needed to give him something else in order to get him to get you approved for a few dedicated weeks away from reporting back to your office. I think I may have a lead for some more focused research. See, I had a dream last night.."

Hermione froze, "You what?"

He winced preemptively, "I know, I know, 'You shouldn't have asked for time off for me!'-"

"No! Not that, the-the dream. You had a dream also? What happened?"

Draco eyed her suspiciously then, noting the way her body was now completely stock still, eyes wide and expectant, those chocolate depths swimming and racing with thoughts just beneath the surface – he knew that look. He humored her cautiously, "It was about the curse...my ancestor I guess. The first one afflicted and who I'm guessing is the woman from that Merlin-forsaken diary you kept delving into. Their names – oh _bollocks_, hold on, let me think...Rhi...Rid? Rye.."

She paled considerably, "Rhydderch and Bellerose." It wasn't a question, just pure confirmation.

"You," he frowned deeply, "You had the same one didn't you?"

"I-I think so."

The woman trembled now, he could see it, her eyes focusing on a nonexistent knot on her dining table and he could almost see the smoke coming out her ears from how hard her brain was working. Without thinking he slid one of his bare feet along hers under the table in a purely comforting kind of way and felt better and worse at the same time when she immediately stopped shaking and refocused her eyes onto his face.

The panic fled from her bones the _second _that innocent touch from the man across from her made contact and it just made to solidify her theory, "Draco, I think we've gotten ourselves into something infinitely more complicated than we initially thought..."

Her hand was in his, he couldn't remember how it got there, but it felt good nonetheless. "Yeah..."

**_Thursday, February 15, 2001 – __7:00PM_**

The rest of the morning, afternoon, and early evening found the pair comparing notes on what they could remember of their shared dream. Now with a set of names to go on, it at least gave them a lead in the right direction. The option of marriage to stave off the effects of the curse was still open but with how both of them have been affected recently, neither were satisfied with a band-aid to the problem and the drive to break it once and for all had been made personal.

Their breakfast was spent mostly in companionable silence, choosing to resume their research after the meal. The only conversation struck at that meal itself being the one around Hermione's copy of The Prophet that was delivered halfway through with her on the front page rearing back and slugging McLaggen right in the jaw and storming off, the headline read: Unattainable Shrew Strikes Again! The feature went into trashy details referencing her refusal of Ronald Weasley's proposal last year, rumors of her being demoted within The Ministry along with citing her decline of press conference appearances as evidence, and overinflated details of Cormac McLaggen's recent accomplishments within their Auror department trying to make him to be some kind of role model hero only to be so publicly refused by Wizarding Britain's 'ex-golden girl'. _What __utter rubbish__!_

There was a later article inside that reported findings of him found locked in a smaller side room at the conference hall that had two large craters in the walls with debris scattered all over the floor. It was just a small article but it featured a monumentally confused McLaggen trying to describe some strange monster that he saw but when he began to tell the story to the reporter, he changed it midway saying something about Hermione and Malfoy, however the reporter openly dismissed his recollection of events considering evidence of a handful of empty and broken champagne glasses were found on the scene and his face had blossomed nicely into a smattering of purple and blue from his earlier run in with the small witch. The man couldn't seem to get one single coherent retelling out for the reporter and they said every time he would start, it was as though his thoughts just completely derailed and he would stare off into space for a few moment before restarting with a different version from before. At least she knew her _Confundus_ charm seemed to work well enough. Hermione knew she probably should have _O__bliviated_ him to be certain they were in the clear, but ever since what happened with her parents, she'd avoided that particular spell like the plague.

Draco had tried to lighten up her initial mood from reading the articles by pointing out that one of the Aurors in the background of the second picture seemed to have found what looked to be her torn knickers and whoever it was pocketed them. That hadn't gone over well at all but despite the repeated smacks to his arms and head from the woman, he'd gotten himself a hearty laugh from it. When he promised he'd buy her some nicer ones to replace them it only set her off again, though he rather thought it was _quite_ worth it.

After the exciting interlude and the remainder of their breakfast, they hit the books. They both wrote down what they could remember and found that they seemed to have been cast in the male and female roles, Draco viewing through Rhydderch's eyes and Hermione through Bellerose. It seemed to make sense to a degree but was still disturbing considering in addition to seeing the cursed events unfold, they both admitted to sensing their respective person's emotions very vividly as well. Even as they recalled it to one another, they would get chills at the pure wash of rage or hatred or longing one or the other felt. Hermione made note to look up more on curses involving possession and transference in addition to everything else.

After some initial awkward rearranging, the duo lounged near one another in her living room combing through the journals she still had in her flat. They were looking for things around the earlier years depicted in the cursed diary – as Draco had begun referring to it – and any signs or mention of either of the two culprits from the dream. Draco favored sitting on her sofa, one leg atop the other with his ankle resting on his knee so he could spread multiple journals out around him at once. Hermione still preferred her spot on the floor surrounded by stacks of them but she shifted so her back pressed against his leg and tended to be in near constant contact with him in subtle ways. They both gallantly avoided talking about it. As it was, the few times they had to stop and get up for bathroom breaks or food thus far filled one of them, if not both, with a faint sense of unease. On the positive side, however, neither of them seemed to be completely overtaken by their hormones – or pheromones – since last night. Most assuredly they both still felt the pull, but were able to retain some semblance of propriety and refrain from turning their time into an all out shag fest like they were a couple of teenagers reborn.

The clock on the mantel struck seven and Draco knew he'd best be leaving soon, not wanting to be responsible for tearing up the woman's flat again – he'd have to show her the charms he'd used on the Manor, maybe tomorrow. The thought of leaving her for an evening started to fill him with a building sense of dread. Draco did well to hide it, lingering while he helped her re-sort the stacks of journals and create a bushel of them for him to take back home that they weren't going to be able to find any use for.

Hermione looked up to him at his place before the fireplace, he still wore her borrowed clothing but had a bag of the old books slung over his shoulder and his tattered formal wear draped over one arm. "Don't you think you'll look a hair suspicious? I suppose it's late enough that there may not be anyone at The Ministry but shouldn't we take a little more precaution?"

He looked down awkwardly, flexing his bare feet and shuffling a bit before glancing back to her, "I'm not going to The Ministry, I'll be going straight to the Manor."

She arched an eyebrow, "Well yes, that would be ideal, but that would require the permissions to be established first." Hermione saw him offer a sheepish look and her mouth popped open in a little "o". "When did you _possibly _open access to my flat from your home?"

Draco shrugged, "It doesn't really matter does it?" _The day after that first sex dream..._ "Point is, you just need to set it up on your end and I'll be good to floo straight home."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, mentally swearing to grill him more about it later when they had a bit more time. She connected their floo access and straightened expectantly, arms folded. "Right then, bright and early tomorrow I suppose? I'll come straight over around 8 or so."

"Yes. Tomorrow." The blonde looked apprehensively at the fireplace as though he were looking at a several story drop in front of him that he had no choice but to take. Draco blinked back to her and saw a strain in her shoulders, her jaw tight, and he wanted to say something but decided against it. He could beat whatever silly pull this was on him, he was a slave to no one, especially not some spiteful bint's magic. He nodded and reaffirmed more to himself than her, "Tomorrow, I'll see you tomorrow."

She watched him take a handful of floo powder and call out his destination of Malfoy Manor, stepping through the green flames and being whisked away to the posh estate. The second he was gone from her sight, Hermione let out a deep breath she'd been holding and collapsed her weight against the stone frame of the hearth. She felt an emptiness pooling in her gut and her chest ached in a way she hadn't felt for some time. Thumping her head back against the wall behind her, she concentrated on steadying her breaths, all the while reassuring herself that she would see him again in the morning. She didn't understand why the need to be near him was now so great, but she wouldn't let a curse overcome her – she wouldn't be where she was today if that had ever been the case.

With a firm and guttural grunt, Hermione closed off all access to the floo network for the evening and returned to her work space to read – though this time she found herself curling in the fading warm spot on her sofa.

**_Thursday, February 15, 2001 – __9__:00PM_**

Excruciating, searing, blinding pain. He didn't understand why it was so bad tonight, but it was.

Draco hadn't felt this way during the transformation since the very first couple of times. He roared, throwing himself at the sealed door to one of the many large unused bedrooms in the Manor. He had taken to locking himself in one on most nights, especially as of late where his urges to seek out Granger even under the beast's guise were becoming more and more frequent and more and more insistent. He'd found he couldn't use magic while in the form of the beast so he would follow the same routine nightly: he would strip himself down, lock himself away in the bedroom and magically seal all the doors and windows in order to ride out his change. This, coupled with the charms he'd put up on the house to keep him from destroying its foundation completely seemed to work well enough. The only items not charmed were the ones contained in the bedroom he used but only because he found it somewhat cathartic to be able to smash _SOME_ things to bits. After he was all done holing himself away, he would store his wand in a compartment that he lacked the dexterity to get into as the monster. Brilliant really. Or he thought so until today as he threw himself bodily against the bedroom door trying to get out.

Why he needed to be out of that room, he couldn't explain, he just knew he had to. Another series of cracks and grinding bone echoed in the room between his groans and growls of pain. He gnashed his teeth as they reformed and spread his jaw, his growing clawed hands scrabbled at the door, shaving long curls of wood off of it only for them to grow back frustratingly. The urgency to get out was overtaking him and throwing him into a frenzy until he heard her.

"_DRACO!_"

_Hermione..._ He must have been hallucinating.

"_DRACO WHERE ARE YOU?!_"

Her frantic cry sounded through the halls, voice sounding thick and panicked. The previous pain was pushed to the back of his mind and he slammed himself bodily at the door again, roaring to her in response, "HERMIONE!"

Draco's changed ears flicked forward and he could hear the swift pattering of her bare feet speeding in the direction he was in. When she would pause in hesitation, he beat against the door again to guide her until he could finally sense her on the other side of the wooden barrier, heaving shaky breaths. He watched the doorknob rattle and heard her slam her fists into her side of it with a snarl.

"_Why won't it open?!_" She beat against it several more times in anger.

Hermione had been doing alright by herself in her flat until just a few minutes ago. It was like the sudden onset of some kind of illness that swept over her like a tidal wave. Her skin flushed and heated feverishly and no matter how many articles of clothing she removed, she couldn't cool off. The aches that had spread through her body took little time to build before they were too painful and jarring for her to ignore. She'd scratched at her flesh until it bled, tiny chunks of her skin lodging under her nails and several small rivers of red dancing down her arms, hands, and legs. She spent uncountable minutes sobbing and clawing thinking if she could just get it **_off_ **it would make all the pain stop.

That's when the flash of the blonde wizard entered her mind.

The fever having taken whatever sensibilities she had left, she set to floo to the Manor, a million times relieved that he hadn't closed off their connection after he'd departed her apartment earlier. Her fever fried mind had her stumbling into his sitting room in bloodied shorts and a tank top, barefooted and wandless, knowing only that she _NEEDED_ to find Draco – he could fix it, he would make it all better.

"_Spelled shut!_"

She heard his growled reply and it launched her into another distraught frenzy. Hermione tugged at her hair, trying to figure what she was to do and fisted her hands to beat at the barrier several more times for good measure, smearing the otherwise pristine paint with splotches of red. In her addled state, the option to go back home to get her wand just wasn't an option, nor apparently was being subtle about a different method.

"AWAY FROM THE DOOR!" She snarled and gave him only the briefest of moments to move before she thrust a splayed hand at the offending object and screamed, "_BOMBARDA!_"

The wood and closely surrounding door frame exploded in a shower of splinters and stone. The power behind the spell was impressive, partly due to the violence behind it and partly due to the fact she was even able to cast such a focused one without her wand. Before the dust had even settled, the blasted opening had begun to repair itself and Hermione had to practically leap through the hole before it closed off again. Her eyes looked through the settling debris frantically, latching onto his still startled hunched figure in the corner, she stumbled to him and immediately collapsed into his arms once he'd acknowledged her presence.

What Draco first noticed about the woman was not her tear stained, blotchy complexion, nor the deep gouges she'd inflicted upon herself with her dainty nails, and not even the way she was so hot to the touch one might fry an egg on her skin, no, he first noticed the way she shook in his arms – full body tremors racking her shoulders – and the desperate way she clung to him; only after that did he take in the rest of her disheveled appearance.

"What happened?" He saw her bushy head of curls shake quickly back and forth at his inquisitive rumble and she buried her head further into his neck. Draco could feel her frame rattling sobs against him and it made his concern grow in addition to the possessive anger rolling through his mind at the idea that someone could have done this to her.

Seeking no more answers from the dismayed woman still trembling against him, he hefted her in the cradle of one arm and padded over to the mostly in tact bed, coaxing her to let go of him so he could set her onto the torn and frayed mattress as gently as possible. He could see her face then, she'd calmed considerably but her eyes were bloodshot from tears, the normal brown of them flecked with disappearing speckles of gold as her breathing settled. At one point, he made to leave her side and she nearly flipped out, gripping at tufts of his fur to keep him close, nuzzling her nose against his cheek with the simple pleading request of '_Stay_' and it was all he needed to remain.

Draco held her that night in more intimate a gesture than anything they'd engaged in thus far. He lay on his side, back to the room's door with his body between it and the woman protectively cradled against him. She curled to face him, head nestled snugly into the crook of his neck and shoulder and pillowed on an arm that secured her in place. He lulled them both to sleep with the methodical combing of his claws down through her nest of curls and back – this sleep possibly being the best either of them ever experienced.

So deeply they slept in that blissfully dreamless sleep, neither noticed the tendrils of magic about them. Silently, stealthily, the energy encircled the sleeping couple, weaving in and out of their tangled limbs in a lewd caress. Satisfied only after it had touched upon them both thoroughly, inside and out, did it dissipate seeming to be sucked into Hermione's floral necklace like a vacuum. Soft cracks and pops came from the small piece of jewelry pressed between the two, the metal twitching and writhing of its own accord until it had finally reformed itself.

The delicate now rose shaped pendant dangled innocently even as the energy within it hummed in the silence of the room.


	20. Chapter 19 - The West Wing

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** One last one before vacation. See you all next year. Have an excellent New Year and remember to read and review as you so choose.

Also, just a side request to those of you so kind as to offer grammatical, spelling, formatting fixes and the like, I'd actually appreciate those via messages versus reviews if it's not an awful lot of trouble. I try to sweep through everything prior to posting but of course there will be things missed and I'd rather handle those more technical issues on the sidelines and leave the counted reviews for good/bad (bad/bad?) about the story content itself. It's not really a huge issue, just a request, but in the greater scheme of things...at least you're reading if you're paying attention to my mistakes. :)

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**__****Thursday, February 1****__****6****__****, 2001 – ****__****7****__****:00****__****A****__****M**

The comforting feeling of warmth and steady puffs of breath on the top of her head is what she woke up to. Slowly, reluctantly, Hermione cracked open her eyes. She had to wriggle and move her head out of its secured resting place before the vision of a pale chest came into view. It took a few moments for the night to come back to her and once it did, she found herself embarrassed at the irrational way she'd behaved and the panic she felt, though at the time it had made all the sense in the world for her to rush to the arms of the man still holding her.

"Good morning."

The sleep tinged mumble of the blonde startled her and she felt him loosen his embrace just enough so she could see his face. He blinked tiredly down at her yet a small smirk twitched the corner of his lips. Hermione appreciated the way his pale hair was pleasantly ruffled, silver eyes dark and glinting this early in the morning, and the soft way his mouth curved in response to her presence. She replied with a sheepish smile, "Hi."

Draco breathed in the fresh scent of the woman in his arms, her mere presence like a calming draught to his nerves even in her current state. Her cheeks were still streaked with dried tears, the skin around her eyes puffy and pink, and the way she snuffled and sniffled was only further evidence that she'd been crying much of the previous night. He brushed her mussed hair away from her face fondly and tucked the wild curls behind her ear, brushing his fingertips down her neck over her exposed shoulder and the healing nail marks she'd inflicted upon herself. Draco's earlier resolve of not allowing the magic to control him was short lived seeing what she'd done to herself and knowing how it had been affecting him last night as well. He decided he didn't want either of them reliving the night's events, mostly her, and said the first thing that came to mind to prevent it.

"I think you should stay here."

"What?" Her surprise was obvious.

He shifted onto his back, tugging Hermione with him so she was half draped across him, running his hands up her arms as she propped herself up to maintain eye contact. "Tonight. Until we figure this out. However long. I think you should stay here." He shushed her impending protest, "Look, with what happened last night I think it's safer if you sleep here."

Hermione gave him a sour look, "Safer in what capacity?"

Clearly put off at the resistance, he scowled in return, "Are you really asking me that? Look at yourself, you nearly ripped your skin off!"

"And what's to say being _here_ would help with that?" Hermione grumbled, her earlier calm mood being replaced by a particular twinge of anxiety that had nested in the back of her mind ever since they'd first broken the professional barrier between client and caseworker...or more like the expected barrier between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.

Draco grunted when she pushed herself to her feet using his chest as leverage, "Maybe the fact that you were fine AFTER you got here?"

She turned to say something else and finally realized that he was stark naked and tore her gaze away trying to change the subject, "Where's your bloody wand?"

He raised an eyebrow as if to say '_like you haven't seen it all_' but waved an arm to the far side of the room, "There. There's a loose stone in the corner." He folded his arms behind his head and stretched out defiantly, not truly feeling the need to cover himself up. "Do you enjoy being so stubborn about everything?"

Hermione wriggled her fingers around the heavy stone the wizard pointed out, barely able to get a grip around it and heft it out of the wall to feel around the dusty cubby for his wand. She snorted, "Only about things that pertain to _you_."

"Why is that?"

"What? What do you mean 'why'?"

"I mean _why_. You're supposed to be smart, so why is it that you've been going about some fairly obvious things in the most roundabout, nonsensical – and quite frankly – _stupid_ kinds of ways?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're on about." Hermione turned from replacing the stone, wand in hand and was met with a very solid, very naked Draco. She'd never even heard him get up. "_Excuse_ me."

Unfazed, he simply moved to block her path when she tried to sidestep him. Draco sought her gaze but she studiously avoided it. "Granger, you suffered probably at least dozens of strange dreams after delving into a cursed diary for weeks before even thinking to mention it to me while trying to help me with this. Last night we both knew better...you and I both KNOW we shouldn't have separated but we still did and you suffered most for it. If it wasn't before, it's glaringly obvious _now_ that we can't just ignore it and we can't just avoid each other. At least not for right now, not until we stop what's causing this. So, again, why are you still being so bloody stubborn, woman?!"

Hermione knew why, she'd never admit it aloud to him, not right now. She chewed at her lip, building her walls quickly to protect her from the conversation she had hoped wouldn't come until much later, "Because it has to stop." She tried to step around him again only to find him blocking her and she grit out a frustrated noise, greatly resisting the urge to shove him. "Get out of my way."

"No! Look at me, what's the problem? Why won't you just do this the easy way for once? You know we won't be able to focus otherwise, you can feel it the same as I do! Why is it you always have to complicate things?"

Hermione fumed, clenching his borrowed wand in one hand and bringing her other up to prod him firmly in the chest with each word. "Complicate things?! In case you haven't noticed, things were pretty complicated from the get go!"

"All the more reason not to make them worse!" He straightened, leaning into her prodding like a brat and invaded her space in as intimidating a way as he could.

"ME make them worse?" She snarled at him, finding her temper much shorter than usual, "Alright then, let's look at the situation – the _big_ picture." Hermione held her empty hand in front of his face in an invasive manner to tick off her points, "First, say I stay here to make it easier on the both of us. Under normal circumstances, we'd likely just kill each other from arguing until we're both blue in the face, under these, we fuck. Much as I hate to admit it, I messed up and as it stands now, we don't even know if my spell from before will work so every second I spend with you is one more that YOU'RE likely to knock me up if you haven't already! Sorry Malfoy, but that's not how I plan to have a family!"

Draco sneered at the hand flashing in his face, grabbing it roughly with one of his own to try to pull it aside, "That won't happen."

"And what if it does?" She sneered back, smacking his grasp away angrily with more strength than one would assume she possessed. "What? Are you going to marry _me_ out of pity just to keep a Malfoy from being born out of wedlock? Or would you deny it to your grave because the line was sullied with the impurities from my blood? Because please spare me your charity on both accounts!"

Draco found himself harshly shoved to the side, the woman very nearly brimming with her anger now. The way she changed her temperament so easily was mind boggling and was driving him mad! "I wouldn't-!"

She cut him off impatiently, massaging at her neck where it felt like the chain of her necklace was chafing her skin as she pushed past him. "To which part? Honestly, how can you even BE so shortsighted? You do realize your only two solutions to this problem of yours, right? You either get married – to someone that is _not_ me – and stop the curse or we figure out how to break it once and for all. Considering neither of us _truly_ fancies each other, either of these situations likely doesn't end well for THIS!" She gestured hotly between the two of them.

Glaring as Hermione flourished his wand at the door and exclaimed all too loudly an unlocking charm, he stole what remained of a sheet from the tattered bed and wrapped it around his naked waist, no longer feeling like being naked around her angry flailing limbs. "Nothing has to change." Even as he said it, he knew it sounded just as stupid as the incredulous look on her face said it did but he didn't care.

There was something pushing the issue for him and he knew deep down that it wasn't the curse driving. He'd known this woman for so long and his peek into other aspects of her life he'd never cared to look at before, perusing the lines upon lines of fabulous praise stored in her file he'd temporarily pilfered had intrigued him greatly – hers seemed so much fuller in comparison to the others he'd read. It didn't hurt either when he found that at least one of her parents had some ties to some older families in France that at one time had at least a modicum of noble stature, though it wasn't that he cared about her heritage as much as he'd been amazed at the many facets that made up what he'd originally really thought was just a plain, yet somehow, extraordinary woman. It all seemed a moot point at the moment, however, when the woman rounded on him again deep in her displeasure.

"It **doesn't**, does it?" She barred the doorway, hands on her hips, scowling darkly. "So what happens when this magic wears off by one way or another? Hmm? What about when you no longer have any earthly desire to lay your eyes on me, much less any part of your body? We just go back to being people that happened to try to kill each other back in school who grew into awkward acquaintances that had a good shag, got over it, got better, then went on our merry fucking way? I don't think that's how it works in practice."

Hermione turned her back on him again, intent on going home but the urgency to keep her there made him snap out and grab her arm before she could get very far. He wanted to say anything to change her mind, something charming and flowery and persuasive but instead all that came out was: "Wait!"

She didn't even look this time and just tugged at his grip warningly, "Let me go."

"Not until you stop being such a bitch and listen!" He jerked her to face him again.

"I said let me go!" She pulled.

"NO!" He pulled harder.

"NOW!" Her roar of insistence was punctuated with the hand that came flying towards his face, fingers curled in a claw-like manner that happened so swiftly it caught Draco by surprise and her nails tore into the flesh of his cheek, painting angry red gashes across it.

The air in the room chilled in great contrast to the energy from the heated row only moments before.

Stunned, Draco _did_ drop his grasp from her arm then, curious fingers coming up to feel the warm liquid pooling at the cuts on his face. He examined the smudges on his fingertips a moment before the two of them locked eyes, his a molten silver and hers a swirling, glittering gold he never recalled seeing in them before. The blow seemed to knock his more feral instincts into place and he felt himself loose a low, warning growl at the woman in front of him.

Hermione didn't mean to lash out like she did but the compulsion was overbearing. Her irrational anger seemed to piggy-back on her previous irrational panic to run the gamut of crazy female behavior. She found herself breathing heavily, staring into dark and angry eyes that accompanied a noise that normally she found exciting for other reasons, now it was a very real threat. She took a slight step backwards and saw his nostrils flare and shoulders tense at the movement. She took another and he released another sound of warning, moving a step forward with her this time. Hermione wasn't sure what she shook loose from him but almost every instinct inside of her was screaming for her to run though even then she wasn't filled with fear but instead a different sick kind of anticipation of what would happen when he caught her. When he took another measured and predatory step towards her she bolted.

"_Depulso!_"

Draco flew backwards at her sudden yell, slamming into the already busted bedframe knocking his head against what remained of the footboard and crumpling into a pile next to it. Snarling, he shook himself straight and leapt to his feet, scrambling to follow her through the doorway. He paused only to take in her still strong scent and listen to the hasty pattering sounds of her feet as they fled in the direction of the sitting room. The furious noise that escaped him at the idea that his mate – _for that's what she was_ – would run from him rattled the halls as he ran after her in pursuit. The Manor was huge and though she'd managed to get a lead on him, it was still his domain and he was able to ultimately cut her off by taking other side hallways she probably didn't even know existed. They stumbled into the sitting room at the same time on opposite ends of it, though he managed to be nearer to the hearth and edged his body between it and the witch.

"_Hermione..._" He grated out her name angrily.

She sneered, "This isn't a game!"

Draco took several measured steps forward seeing her give ground with each one. "I'm not the one giving chase."

Hermione growled at him defiantly and shot another spell that tore up the stone between them and turned tail to run back down the hallway that led her there. She heard his roar of her name again and forced herself to flee _faster_. She wasn't sure where she was going but she just knew she had to get there, and quickly. All on her route she caused several more explosions behind her and ripped anything off the walls or from the decorative cabinets lining the halls as she went. Draco's charms on the Manor did well at working to put things back to rights but she surmised it was enough to delay him some. It wasn't until Hermione found herself face to face with a familiar set of ornate double doors that she realized where she was.

"Fuck!" On any other occasion, she would have been ecstatic to see the library, but in this case where she knew with absolute certainty that there was no other exit save for the way she came it was most assuredly NOT where she wanted to be.

As if on cue, Draco's heaving and panting form slid into view at the end of the hall, his attention immediately latching onto her own breathless figure. The sheet around his waist was still miraculously in place, though not by much, and he couldn't help the predatory smile of satisfaction that curled his lips.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his cockiness and tried for another _Depulso_ sent his way but he was able to dodge it and came barreling for her. She cursed and pushed forward through the double doors of the library trying to turn, shut, and lock them before he could plow through but she barely got past the threshold when she felt the heavy weight of the blonde wizard slam into her back and tackle her to the floor.

The woman flailed in his grip when he flipped her over, still trying to get a swipe in at him with his own wand but he just straddled and restrained her forcefully. He sat over top of her, his lower body pressed heavily over hers and his hands held her wrists to the floor above her head but even still she refused to drop his wand.

Draco leaned in, nose to nose, and sneered baring teeth that seemed just a hair too sharp to be normal. "Is this honestly how I have to get you to listen to me?"

Hermione set her jaw, angry that he chased her, angry that she ran, angry that they were arguing over something that, for all intents and purposes, were just insecurities in her head – hell, she was just **_angry_**.

"Answer me!" He growled, freeing her wandless hand in favor of gripping her hair roughly at the base of her neck to make her look at him.

"Get. Bent." She spat.

That same hand came around to close around her throat in warning, part of him thrilled at the way her pulse fluttered against the palm of his hand from her racing heartbeat but a larger part desired that ice-cold glare she was giving him to melt. "You are such a _BITCH!_"

Her free hand came forward to slash at his unmarred cheek but he caught this one again and forced it back down beside her head. Hermione huffed and stubbornly kept up her glare. His proximity and heavy breathing, coupled with the way he held her down was doing things to her sensibilities and it served both to distract her and massively reinforce her original point of leaving. She must not have been doing a good enough job of glaring to keep the both of them preoccupied because she noticed exactly when his body shifted and the look in his eyes went from dark displeasure to dark...something else.

Draco sensed her, he licked his lips roving his gaze down over his mate: her pinked cheeks, slightly open and panting mouth, rapidly rising and falling breasts; his eyes lingered on her still bruised shoulder that screamed his claim to her and he felt himself growing hard despite their row and chase – because of it perhaps. He knew she felt him as well when he saw her throat bob, trying to stifle a more noticeable reaction. He willed himself to maintain his more human state of mind, though admittedly even as nothing but a man she would have been distracting.

"I'm not stupid," he started, his forehead pressed to hers, eyes closed so he couldn't see her though he still felt her otherwise. "You're right. If not for this curse I never would have looked at you sideways before-"

She snorted under him and squirmed only to be further restrained with little effort.

"But that doesn't matter now," he gulped, moving his nose to brush down the side of her face until they rested cheek to cheek. "I can't answer all your bloody questions about what will happen after it's over! I'd rather been avoiding thinking that far ahead... what I do know is I haven't gone a minute of the day without thinking of you when I don't have you near ever since that first damned night. All those idiotic women parading in front of me like prizes for the taking even and I still couldn't get your bushy haired, bossy attitude, bitch face out of my head."

Hermione breathed out, calmed by the press of skin to hers, her hips shifting lightly against his. "Wanker."

He growled, "It might be the magic...it might be something else. And as for the first option, if it came to it...it might not end as poorly for us as you think." It was the most he could commit himself to giving her right now. He nuzzled her cheek as she'd done to him the night before and simply said, "_Stay..._"

Ever the obstinate one, "But what if-"

Draco snarled impatiently, "Oh fuck your bloody 'what if's'!" He pried his wand from her hand at last, hastily murmuring a contraceptive spell at her abdomen before setting it aside again. He wasted no time in claiming her mouth then and refocused the efforts of his hands from holding her down to finding the waistband of her night shorts covering that tight body of hers that had been faintly gyrating against him.

Hermione started with a muffled protest into his mouth and instead of melting into his kiss she shoved him off her roughly sending him to a surprised heap beside her. She growled, "Presumptuous git!"

Confused a moment and ready to make her reconsider, Draco quickly found he wouldn't have to when his lioness climbed over him, pinning him to the cool marble of the library floor in a mirror image of their previous position. Her head came down as if to kiss him and he was hit sharply in the chin with what felt like a small heavy ball of lead. Draco jerked back, trying to see what it was that smacked him and saw the low swinging rose pendant hanging from her neck. "Granger, what the hell?"

Hermione grunted, irritated by his distraction, apologized halfheartedly and moved in to kiss him again. "Sorry-"

His fingers moved to steady the charm, noting something about it didn't seem right – _wasn't __this__ a lily __before__?_ - the same time her own came to move the damned thing out of the way. The moment both of their hands connected with each other and touched the petals of the necklace, the library filled with a blinding white flash of light, the tables and chairs in the large room shook and rattled as energy exploded out from the tiny pendant. Draco and Hermione barely had time to catch each others stares before they felt it collapsing back down around them in a familiar pull on the backside of their abdomens before they were both dragged through a swirling vortex to a place very far from home.

**_Thursday, February 1__6_**_**, 2001** _

"_Who are they?"_

"_I do not know! __L__ook at them, they look like the master and the mistress..._"

"_Let me see! Let me see!_"

"_Impossible! They would have to be hundreds of years old by now. Surely they just look.._"

Hermione groaned and the whispering she swore she'd been hearing stopped suddenly. Her body ached with every movement she made to pick herself up off of the solid pillow of Draco's body that she landed on in their ungraceful heap to...wherever they were. She rubbed at her head trying to sooth the pressure behind her eyes that was the result of the sudden transport, blinking and finding very little light in the place they'd ended up.

From what she could make out, they were in a large house, maybe even a castle with the way the ceiling reached high and the halls around them stretched into a deeper darkness. Hermione guessed she was in some kind of entrance hall by what she _could_ see. There were dozens of windows lining the ground level of the walls as well as further up but they all seemed to be overgrown so it was impossible to tell exactly what time of day it was just by looking around. What little light wormed through the cover of vines and other foliage did nothing for showing her a way to the exit either. No fires were lit for warmth and no living occupant called this place their home as was evidenced by the cold, stagnant air calling goosebumps to life on every inch of her exposed skin.

"Draco?" She squinted down at the man still laying quietly on the ground and shook him. "Draco! Draco get up!" It took several shakes and shoves but she finally heard a sudden grunt and cough.

"Stop with the bloody shaking unless you want me to be sick!" He smacked her hands away from him with a growl, finding his own head upon waking to be in significant disarray...as well as his sense of balance. Draco felt as though he was tipped to one side even though he was still on his back and the room tried to spin whenever he would open his eyes.

"Sorry," she grumbled, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. "Do you know what happened?"

He grunted, covered his face with a hand and groaned until the blackness behind his eyelids finally stopped moving. "Based on the way my stomach is behaving, I'd say we just took a ride with a portkey."

Hermione grimaced, "To where?"

"How should I know? It was _your_ necklace that brought us here!"

"My.." She finally looked down, trying to tug the little pendant far enough in front of her face on its short chain to examine it but the lighting was too dim. The thing felt lighter, far lighter than it did however long ago it was before they landed as to what changed, she tried to take it off and see only to find there was no longer a clasp.

Draco sat up finally, finding the chill air decidedly unpleasant – especially still clothed only in his barely there ratty old sheet – and was going to complain some more but Hermione's gasp, followed by her growing panic and fumbling about drew his attention. "What? What's happening?"

She was clawing at the necklace, moving it all around trying to find some kind of way to get it off. Hermione tried pulling it over her head but the chain was too short to clear and when she attempted breaking the links by yanking at it, all this accomplished was her startled yelp of pain and a still unbroken necklace. "It won't come off!"

"What? Are you sure?" Draco watched her struggle a moment longer and rolled his eyes, "Here, let me see."

The woman paused her frantic tugging and sat as still as she could while the blonde inspected her pendant. She felt him moving the jewelry with purpose and ease and was about to ask something but she glimpsed the eerie way his eyes shone in the darkness like mirrored discs reflecting what little sunlight there was and gasped again, jerking away from him.

He huffed, "What now!"

Hermione shook her head and made to get up instead, wobbling some as she tested her balance. "Nothing. It's freezing in here, let's find somewhere less open where we can build a fire or something and then we'll worry about figuring this out."

She started in what looked to be the direction of a large staircase but only got a few steps before she tripped on a large chunk of fallen debris. Coming inches away from smacking face first into a nice piece of jagged stone Draco caught her and hauled her back onto her feet, an irate expression fixed onto his face. Or at least she assumed it was irate with the way those silver mirrors narrowed then turned away.

"Watch it," he warned and took hold of her small hand in his, surveying a path to the winding staircase in front of them around all the rubble.

Littering the surrounding path to the stairs were clusters of fallen stone from what once appeared to be several statues and pillars that probably decorated the room alongside the wooden banisters. Draco could make out a handful of stone faces in the piles and they all belonged to wicked looking creatures with dangerous teeth and curving horns. He led them up, step by step, over a carpet runner that was all but rotted clean through to the platform where more stairs branched off to both the left and the right. The pathway leading to the eastern side of the house was blocked by, what he suspected, were the upper portions of those same fallen pillars that left their mess down below. The only cleared way was to the west staircase which, in and of itself, looked pretty unwelcoming.

"Guess we're going this way," Draco looked behind him to Hermione who was clearly shivering now though at least she looked slightly less lost between the mildly better lighting on the elevated rise and his confident steps guiding her. He tugged her closer to him, an arm wrapping about her shoulders to pull her into what warmth he had and she didn't argue at all for once as he moved them onwards, side by side.

Even with his keen altered eyesight the western hallway looked dark as though the walls themselves were painted with shadow. Draco could make out the outlines of once gilded, now grime covered portrait frames, the pictures themselves all covered by dirt and dust and cobwebs. Gothic looking sconces lined the hallway though most of them were empty, at best there were a smattering of wax nubs that had once belonged to long burning pillars or tapers. The smell of mildew and must was thick in the air and it made Draco's lip curl. He absently rubbed over Hermione's exposed arms, trying not to take in too much of the unpleasant aroma as they walked and he poked his head into whatever rooms they passed by.

The pair of them were growing antsier the more they discovered the shambles the place was in. The walkway stretched on for ages and all the rooms they'd seen thus far were completely torn apart on the inside. Broken and blackened furniture, rusted metal fixtures, fallen ceilings, some of them were missing portions of the floorboards and one room looked as though it had a huge hole blasted clean through it; that one was filled with rubble from the collapsed part of the roof and exterior wall. On the bright side, they were able to see outside and it shed a bit more light into the home, it couldn't have been past noon if the sun's position was anything to go by...on the down side, it let in a huge chunk of the crisp February mid-morning air and both of them shivered as they passed.

Draco led them more carefully beyond the last large room, suddenly and sincerely questioning the stability of the foundation of the place. He was just about to suggest they turn around and search the ground floor when the way suddenly stopped, ending with a set of extremely solid looking double doors. He heard whispers on the other side.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, not waiting for a response before closing the distance to the barrier and testing the handles. He snorted when he found them locked. "Really?" Draco rattled one handle, then the other...then both at the same time a bit violently. "Oh for fuck's sake! All this way for some locked doors?"

Hermione watched the blonde try everything he could muster to coerce the doors open: turning the handles gently, turning them harshly, kicking the doors, slamming into them with his full body weight. He was making some kind of show, not to mention stirring up all sorts of dust. She coughed and waved the particles away from her face, "Draco." Slam. "Draco.." Kick, kick, kick. "DRACO STOP!" A violent but short lived coughing fit took her and pried his attention away from the doors. She patted at her chest with a cupped hand to shake the junk loose and gave his form a small glare, "You're going to kill me with mold if you keep that up!"

He sneered but backed away from them and made a mocking bowing gesture indicating that she step forward. "Well please, if you have a better way."

"_Fine_," she replied tartly, padding up to the doors.

Hermione's eyes roved over the wood, thinking at once that they didn't fit the rest of the house – not in the condition it was in now, anyway. Even with the thick stream of sunlight highlighting it, she could see the wood was as dark as the rest of the hall and just as covered in cobwebs as everything else, but underneath it all, it looked almost brand new. She could make out intricate carvings on the surrounding frame, organic curves and twists and swirls that resembled vines were etched into the surface, they reminded her a little of the wood of her wand by the pattern. Those same vine-like images crept onto the wooden panels currently barring their entrance and entwined amongst themselves in carefree patterns that were just shy of looking far too busy. At the central focal points of each door were embossed interpretations of magnificent looking roses pictured in full bloom, the cuts into the wood were deep and sharp and not worn at all.

Amazed by the seemingly perfect condition, Hermione reached out to touch the carving – when her fingertips touched upon the wood a faint buzzing started in her ears. She shook her head to clear it, then again, then she realized that it wasn't in her ears and was actually coming from the doors in front of her. She felt Draco jerk her backwards, the noise building to an oppressive volume as the two of them looked around for the source but able to find none as it had spread EVERYWHERE.

**_BOOM!_**

The twin doors exploded open, a powerful gust of wind knocking the couple to the ground and sweeping freezing air over them both. The buzzing turned to pops and whiplike cracks of energy filling every inch of the space around them, crawling across the walls, the floor, the ceiling, everything within reach. Hermione lifted her head from where she'd fallen on Draco – again – and saw blue-white lightning twitching its way down the hall both from behind and ahead through the new path. It curled like it was alive, wrapping around the sconces, candelabras, and chandeliers and with a resounding **_POP!_** blue flames flared to life around them all. The flames engulfed them, outlining each object in animated fire that flickered and finally shed an ethereal light onto the manor walls.

Hermione felt the heat wafting from the blue fire almost immediately, relieved at the chill being chased from her bones but equally terrified at the same time. With a great deal of effort, she pulled herself to her feet, dragging Draco with her, noting that the blonde didn't release his hold on her once they were both back on their feet.

"I'm going to stop asking you to touch things if this kind of shit keeps happening..."

Hermione looked toward the new hallway and took a step forward, tugging his hand when he didn't move with her, "Come on."

Draco gave her an incredulous look, "_Really?_"

She just rolled her eyes and insisted, dragging him along. "Come _on_!"

"Bloody fucking Gryffindors..." Draco muttered his complaints but allowed himself to be pulled onward by the witch as she took her turn to lead them.

And so she led them,straight into the west wing.


	21. Chapter 20 - The Blood

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** Here's just a little short one with what I managed to type up on vacation. Working on the next chapter now. I hope everyone had an excellent and safe New Year's celebration!

* * *

**__****Thursday, February 1****__****6****__****, 2001 – ****__****LeClair Manor**

The differences between the new path and the old was like night and day. The darkness of the walls and floor bled away within a few feet of the twin doors to be replaced with richly colored and plush rugs, vibrant green and gold walls, and expertly carved mahogany display cases and tables on either side as the pair walked on. The rooms they passed were immaculate, the furniture inside untouched and as clean as if someone were living there even now. Hermione didn't see a spec of dust covering anything on this side of the house, it was as though everything beyond those doors were simply frozen in time, untouched by the going-ons of the world around it. The sconces ahead were wrapped in the flickering blue flames just as the others but these wore them like a second skin. Delicately formed brass spires stretched up along the walls and looked as though they were never meant to hold the clunky wax candles like the others. The heat spilling off each point warmed the hallway so thoroughly, Hermione and Draco were almost able to forget about their state of undress – almost.

Hermione's grip on the blonde wizard's hand remained firm but no longer bruising as she pulled him along, the blue flames she herself was quite partial to comforted her in a way she couldn't explain. She took in details of the colorful paintings and portraits lining the hall searching them for movement. "In the dream, didn't that woman Bellerose say something about her summer home?" She waited for a response and instead found herself tugged back a few steps when it appeared the man behind her had stopped walking. "Malfoy?"

Draco had his head cocked to one side, brows drawn and having taken an intense interest in a large portrait housed within a very expensive looking golden frame. "Granger, look at this," he pointed with a hint of wonder coloring his voice.

She backtracked to take a look and gasped at the image. Within the canvas were three expertly painted likenesses: two men and one woman. The two men were obviously related, also obviously Malfoys if the telltale white-blonde hair said anything. The older man was pictured on the far left, facing right, long hair tied at the base of his neck with a black ribbon that blended into the black jacket he wore as he glared with an icy stare at the painter. The openly scornful expression he wore made his pointed jaw and sharp cheekbones all the more harsh – he reminded her a lot of Lucius. The second man stood in the center, slightly taller than the first and was aiming a cocky smirk forward completely unfazed by the deep scowl of the male at his side, or possibly just taking great joy in it. His hair was as pale as the others but cropped short and his eyes lacked the gray or silver hue more commonly suited to the Malfoy men but instead were a startling gold color that sparkled with mirth. He had an arm wrapped fondly around the lady in the picture.

The woman was placed on the far right facing inwards like her first male counterpart, though she seemed quite a bit happier than he, much more in line with the level of amusement captured in the second man's expression. Her face was long and slender with high cheekbones that made her look very delicate though her eyes were bright and fiery, a light shade of amber swirled with chocolate, and even within the painting they shone with a calculating intelligence. Rich chestnut brown hair was pulled back tightly on either side of her head anchored somewhere out of sight so that her smooth spiral curls fell away from her perfectly posed skin was lightly bronzed and a smattering of freckles stretched across the bridge of her nose between the apples of her cheeks. A crisp pink cupid's bow tilted upwards in a wicked little smirk – apparently the two were sharing a laugh during the creation of the painting – and she leaned into the middle man, hand curled daintily over his dark gray robe. With the turn of her shoulder, Hermione wasn't sure, but she thought she could make out a rose necklace at her breast. Her complexion aside, seeing this image of what had to be Bellerose was almost like looking into a mirror.

"You could be sisters." Draco seemed to think so as well.

Hermione frowned, examining the portrait a few moments longer, "Indeed. Although I don't know how much I appreciate that comparison..."

Draco rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, his inspection of the lady now shifting to his two ancestors, "Really now? I thought you said she didn't seem like all that bad of a person?"

"Yes...well that was before I saw, and _felt, _first hand the kinds of things she was willing to do to someone she supposedly 'loved'. Even taking into consideration his transgressions, transfiguration as punishment...I don't think that's ever been sanctioned."

He grimaced, having the unfortunate ability now to say he's experienced this particular avenue of punishment more than once – with only one being a time where you could squint and maybe say he was actually at fault and deserved it. Draco, more than happy to veer their conversation away from talk about it, pointed at the center male in the picture. "Who do you think that is? I'm guessing the one on the left was what's his name."

Hermione scowled and smacked him lightly on his arm, "His name was Rhydderch! Honestly Malfoy, you should try to commit your ancestor's name to memory! But yes, the one on the left looks like him from what I remember. I'm not sure who this is...he reminds me a bit of you but his eyes are different. Do you think he's-"

"_My son._"

"AHHHH!"

"AHHHH!"

The pair screamed in unison, Hermione instantly clinging to Draco and he automatically wrapping his arms about her to shield her from whatever the heck that was that just scared the living daylights out of them. Hermione's eyes darted around, trying to trace back where the voice came from. A soft clearing of the throat sounded a few more paces down the hall and Hermione's eyes went round as she saw another mirror-like portrait of Bellerose staring at her with a fine eyebrow arched and a small look of amusement quirking her lips.

"_My apologies. I did not mean to startle you._"

"You! You're Bellerose!" Hermione squirmed away from Draco's grasp against his mild protest and made her way to stop in front of the woman's frame.

The woman in the portrait tilted her head to one side as though she were seeing the girl for the first time, intrigued by seeing the familiar looking features staring back at her. "_Oui, that is true. __Now who are you and how did you get in this wing?_"

She was a bit taken aback by the portrait's clipped tone, "H-Hermione, my name is Hermione Granger." The witch motioned Draco forward and though he came it was done so reluctantly with a suspicious scowl directed to the woman in the frame. "And this is Draco-"

"_Malfoy!_" The woman hissed venomously, eyes narrowed and gleaming in a matter of seconds as soon as she got a good view of his blonde hair and pointed jaw. She turned to flee her portrait with no desire to be present in front of one.

"Wait!" Hermione jumped, placing her hand on the frame, "Please wait! Please! We have some questions!"

Bellerose paused to look at Hermione's hand on her portrait with unveiled distaste and to Draco again where the two exchanged an unfriendly look. "_I have no obligation to answer any of your questions. Get out of my manor._"

"Please! We don't even know where we are, I just have a few questions and then we'll be out of your hair, I promise!"

The painted woman's eyes never left Draco's form and she was silent a long moment before, "_Fine. You, come with me. He must stay here._"

"Like hell I will!"

"Draco!" Hermione turned to place a calming hand on his bicep having to coax his eyes from the portrait and the daggers he was glaring its way and spoke to him in a hushed whisper. "Draco, just wait here okay? I won't be long. This portrait of Bellerose could have _invaluable _information about the curse."

The blonde tugged her away from the picture, his back between the curious eyes of the noblewoman and Hermione. "Yes and she could be extremely dangerous also!"

"She can't! She's a portrait, Malfoy! She can't hurt me, she has no power here...she is nothing but captured memories."

Draco looked over his shoulder at Bellerose who was examining her fingernails in a show of waiting for them to figure themselves out, though he knew she was listening by the way her body tilted towards them and the feigned exasperated expression on her face. He didn't like it, not at all. Maybe it was the familiar note through these corridors of the magic which cursed his bloodline and hummed over his skin like a swarm of gnats that put him in his state of unease, or perhaps it was something else, regardless he didn't like it at all and he knew this woman was its source.

"Granger I don't want you going alone anywhere with her. I don't care if she's nothing but oil and canvas, there's something not right about this place and if you think I'm just going to agree to let you out of my sight without a second thought then you've gone totally insane!"

She blinked at him in surprise at how forthcoming the plea was and her hands smoothed up his bare chest to rest on either side of his neck. "Malfoy, I'll be fine, I promise. I'll only be a few minutes."

"But-"

"What other options do we have?" She interrupted his protest and could see the words from her argument weaseling their way into his head for consideration. Hermione coaxed him close and without thinking nuzzled her cheek against his, his pale whiskers rasping against her much smoother skin. "Wait here and I'll be right back."

Her calming scent filled his nostrils and he growled, combing a hand down through her curls possessively before pulling away and eying the portrait menacingly. Draco knew the witch wasn't about to let it go and she did have a point that this was the only real opportunity that had presented itself thus far for finding anything out, or at the very least just getting back home. He spoke to Hermione but never took his eyes off the woman who was openly staring at them now with a very intrigued look, "Be careful..."

Hermione smiled to herself and clapped Draco on the shoulders excitedly and said again, "I'll be right back!" She hurried back to the picture of Bellerose, the woman seeming a bit surprised at her enthusiasm. "Let's go, I have so many questions!"

Bellerose blinked, head tilted to one side again like a curious bird. She met Draco's threatening stare a moment before she allowed a mischievous smile to color her expression and she pointed further down the hall, "_Meet me in the room at the end of the hall. There's a large gilded door on the right, my bed chambers, we shall speak there. Your...friend, can wait in the room next to it __so he __does not make a scene in the hall."_

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

"A few fucking minutes my ass..." Draco groused to himself from his spot on a large four poster bed and its obnoxiously plush mattress.

The pair had split off with Hermione disappearing behind a huge golden door that was just as impressively carved as the ones they entered through and he was directed into this decadent but still less posh room next to it. He'd only gotten a glimpse into the other bed chambers before the door shut heavily though he caught sight of a large marbled fireplace with the same blue fire blazing in it as was lighting the rest of the wing – worst case scenario, maybe this manor was connected to the Floo network and they could get home that way since for whatever reason, Hermione's necklace turned portkey didn't seem to want to activate again. Draco had already given himself a self-guided tour of his own borrowed chambers and found they weren't quite as welcoming as Bellerose's.

The room he was in was lit only to the bare minimum, a small chandelier hung from the ceiling with a handful of fire pots situated on it that the fire flickered in but the other few sconces along the walls remained unlit. There was also a fireplace that faced the bed but it was cold and was also the first part of this wing that he'd seen that had any speck of settled dust in it along with the singe marks decorating the back of the hand placed stones of the firebox. The bed had been turned down when he came in like a guest had been expected although Draco strongly suspected that he wasn't its intended patron. Aside from the curtained four poster there was minimal furniture to accompany it: a heavily cushioned armchair, a couple of nightstands, a double dresser with a mirror attached and an intimidating wardrobe whose doors were jammed. It all seemed as though it were custom built from the same dark wood and between that and the deep greens and silvers accenting everything it reminded him a bit of the library back at Malfoy Manor. His exploration yielded very little of interest and beyond the basic furnishings there were only a few pictures hung on what spaces weren't taken, none of which had much else in them beyond painted garden scenes with a few people he didn't recognize milling about in them and pointedly ignoring him.

Draco rested on the mattress with his arms folded behind his head, glaring up at the canopy stretched between the posts. He thought he might be able to eavesdrop on the conversation between Hermione and the painted woman, but even with his enhanced hearing the wall between them was thicker than he'd expected and he could only hear excited murmurs from his companion and an occasional exclamation. The first time she'd risen her voice, he'd gotten himself worked up but when it was just followed by what he could peg for her laughter he forced himself to calm down and let it go...though what she thought was so funny, he _would_ like to know.

"_Draco Malfoy?_"

He shot up off the bed looking. "What? Who's there?"

"_Here __sir__, to your left._"

Draco turned as directed as on guard as he could be still clothed in his sheet, eyes searching for the source of the accented voice.

"_Higher sir, in the frame._"

He looked again and saw a tiny hand waving at him from one of the garden pictures he'd dismissed earlier. The appendage belonged to a humbly clothed woman in a dark colored dress, a small white apron set upon her long skirt, and her dark hair pulled up into a tight and neat looking bun. She was a bit pudgy in the face and by the looks of her attire she was a servant. Who on earth would have paintings of their servants? "Uh...hello."

"Good a_fternoon __sir__,_" the woman curtsied, "_Mistress Rose sent me to check on you and see you were doing well. Are you in need of anything?_"

Draco blinked at the little image of the woman, approaching the painting with a confused squinty look on his face, "Who are you?"

"_My apologies sir, I am __Mistress Rose's maid. She asked that I see to your needs as the others are unable to._"

Bellerose's personal maid? Draco's suspicion was piqued once again seeing how he could tell the lady of the house didn't care for his presence there, the fact she sent her personal maid to 'check on him' likely meant she was to spy on him and report back. He folded his arms crossly, resisting the temptation to ease back into his haughty temperament and snapped at her, "Right. It's all just peachy peaches in here. You can tell your _Mistress_ as much."

The painted figure seemed taken aback by his bluntness and bowed her head subserviently looking very ready to flee from the garden, "_Forgive me sir. I will leave you to your peace, please excuse me._"

"Yeah, yeah..." Draco saw the way her body shied away from his glare and he could just hear Hermione's voice in his head chastising him for being unnecessarily rude when she caught wind of the servant's report back to Bellerose. He rolled his eyes and stopped the maid before she exited the frame, "Hey wait. I _could_ actually use a couple of things."

She paused in her retreat and raised her eyes again to the blonde's, "_Yes sir. How can I be of assistance to you?_"

"I'd like you to answer a couple of my questions, if you would."

"_O-of course sir, I will answer them to the best of my ability._"

Draco eyed her lazily, she seemed nervous at that request. He supposed there was a reason that the witch bitch separated him from Granger and he was going to do his best to wring out what he could from this little spy. "Firstly though...are there any clothes here I could borrow?"

"_Yes sir. The wardrobe on the far wall should have some things in it that should fit you,_" she hesitated, "_The...Mistress did request I try to clothe you prior to her meeting with you again._"

That surprised him. He shook it off and padded to the wardrobe from earlier, "She plans on actually talking to me then?" Draco tugged at the wardrobe doors, finding them still firmly shut.

"_Yes, of course, sir. She would like to speak with you once she __has__ finished with Lady Granger._" The maid watched him struggle with the wardrobe, "_My apologies again, it is sealed with magic._"

Draco let out an exasperated sigh and turned back towards the painting. "Excellent. I am short my wand, do you have a spare?" He asked sarcastically.

The tiny little maid's head shook left to right, "_No sir, but you should be able to open it._"

"How do you figure?"

She seemed reluctant to explain but answered after a pause. "_Certain doors and cabinets in this wing are sealed with blood magic, the same as __the__ doors that opened to the hall. These will only open if you __are __of the LeClair family. __This wardrobe contained Mister Abelard's clothing for his visits with his mother._"

Abelard? Mother? "Whoa whoa whoa," Draco approached the frame again, the gears in his head turning to push the pieces into place. "Back up for a second. Who is Abelard?"

The maid gave him that same birdlike look that Bellerose was giving Hermione earlier, "_Mister __Abelard Malfoy, the Mistress' son. You are __Mister __Draco Malfoy, correct? According to Lady Granger's accounts, you would be his descendant. It may take a moment __to open since you are several generations from the Mistress, but it should open._"

His family history was largely unattainable due to the curse around the years that housed the living versions of the occupants seen in the pictures around this manor, but he couldn't deny that the name was somewhat familiar. The portion of the maid's statement from before is what actually caught his real attention. "The hall doors to this wing, they're sealed by blood magic as well you said?"

"_Y-yes sir,_" the urgency in which Draco was pressing in on her picture made the maid obviously uneasy as though she said something she shouldn't have.

"Only a descendant of a LeClair can open it?"

"_Yes sir._"

"...Hermione opened those." He watched as the maid's small painted eyes grew into round saucers and he _knew_ she knew something. Draco ripped the painting off the wall, the maid stumbling around as he shook the landscape, "Spit it out!"

"_I-I-I do not understand what you mean, sir!_" She gasped on her hands and knees, stabilizing herself with the perfectly manicured hedges on either side of her.

"Bullshit! How did Granger open the doors?!"

"_I don't—AHH!_"

Draco shook the frame again, snarling angrily with a set of pointed teeth bared at the cowering woman, "ANSWER! **_NOW!_**"

The maid shrieked when he slammed the picture against the wall, thrusting her off balance from even all fours and she sobbed fearfully, "_Lady Granger's ancestors are of the Feviere line! The Mistress' second husband after Lord Malfoy chased her from his land! She is a LeClair as well!_"

He growled at the trembling maid and made a hasty exit to try and extract Hermione from Bellerose's bedchambers. Draco found the gilded door solidly shut, much like the ones leading to the west wing, only this one didn't even budge an inch when he tried the handle. He calmed himself enough to just rest his hand on the door face like Granger had done with the other carvings – _nothing_. He waited a few more seconds with the same result. Snarling at the wood, Draco took to pounding on it instead, yelling for the woman on the other side with no sign of a response.


	22. Chapter 21 - The Rose

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** Sorry, another short one. Pushing out plot in chunks for you all here. Thank you once again for everyone sticking with this for more than just the silly sexual interludes. :)

Quickly, to address a question that came up a few different times from various ways: Yes, as written in this story, Hermione and Draco are **distantly** related. I'm not sure if anyone reading likes genealogy and such but it was not uncommon for noble families (or of course Purebloods as in the HP universe) to marry within the bloodline to keep it as pure as possible. I think the most common cases were instances of people marrying their second or third cousins to perpetuate the line, which in actuality is only about a ~3% or less genetic overlap all said and done. It's also not all that uncommon for people today to find that they and their spouse may be distantly related if you go back far enough in your ancestry, especially if you have very similar ethnic origins to begin with. For clarification, any relation the characters have to Bellerose are 10 to 11 generations (300~ years) from the source...I may or may not have drawn out a rough family tree for them before I started writing...I'll admit to _nothing_.

The long and short of it in any case for those of you that are concerned is: yes they are related, no it is not incestuous by common definition. That's not really my cuppa tea. :) Hope that clears some stuff up! As always, I appreciate all of you and I hope you enjoy or are at least mildly entertained by what you find here. Please continue to read and review as you so choose.

-Slik

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**__****Thursday, February 1****__****6****__****, 2001 – ****__****LeClair Manor**

"I'm WHAT?"

Belle just finished listening to Hermione's major point breakdown of her family history as far back as she could to the nobles of the House of Aumont from somewhere in the early to mid 1800's per her request. She thought the girl's research was quite impressive and apparently all stemmed from her interest at seeing one of her wizard friend's family tapestries years ago. "_You are one of mine, dear Hermione. Is it not obvious? You look just like me after all._"

Hermione plopped heavily onto the lush bed behind her, eyes wide and glazed looking at the noblewoman sipping tea in a painting of the Malfoy gardens over the room's marble fireplace thinking on the magnitude of this information. Belle shooed the other guests in the painting away earlier save for her personal maid who stood silently in the background awaiting instruction. "But...I don't understand how that's even possible. I'm Muggle-born, I don't come from a line of wizards and witches, my family had never even HEARD of Hogwarts until I got my letter!"

Bellerose set her teacup and saucer delicately on a crossed knee and just _looked_ at her. "_Hermione, you are a very smart woman – __the fact that you just traced your lineage back eight or nine generations from memory alone speaks to that.__ Do you honestly believe the magic just appears out of nowhere like that? It is something special to be sure, but it is not quite that mystical._"

"What do you mean?"

"_Heredity, darling. Just because your parents did not have it at their disposal does not mean that it was not __there __at all__. Of course you come from __other witches and wizards, your magical roots are just buried deeply. __That__ was...my fault, I am afraid. __I broke tradition after fleeing Malfoy Manor, I returned home to Bordeaux and,_" she hesitated uncomfortably, "_And I remarried to a Muggle man, __keeping the fact that I was a witch secret__._"

"A Muggle?" Hermione popped back up from her perch excitedly, somehow never believing she would hear a Pureblood witch, especially from such an old noble family, openly stating she willingly married a Muggle. "How did that happen?! What happened to your son? Your husband? YOU?! You're just raising even more questions than I came in here with!"

Bellerose sighed and placed her tea on the black iron table in front of her, standing so she could pace. "_Oui, I see that y__ou have many questions...and I do have answers for you, but I must ask you something first: how much do you know about the curse?_"

"Ah..well...Malfoy and I have been researching a lot since last month. We know now that you enacted it on your husband because he was cheating on you. We know that it doesn't manifest itself until the year of the Malfoy heir's 21st birthday," she eyed the picture with a thoughtful look on her face trying to recite the list they'd made but not wanting to give away exactly how vividly they both came to experience the encounters through visions. "The changes only take affect after sundown, but as I understand it, that was somehow altered over the years."

The other woman nodded, "_It was. The original curse as I created it was to punish Rhydderch. It was...dark magic, there is no denying __that__. I transformed him into a beast with the key being our wedding vows. At least, that is as I intended it. The execution, __however,__ was flawed and it became...well it became what you have seen._"

"It was foolish for you to have cast it in the first place!" Hermione admonished her for the use of dark magic, a too comfortable bossiness appearing in her tone.

Belle narrowed her eyes and even in the landscape they glittered, the flames nearest to the painting flickered, "_Watch your tongue, __dear__. I may not be there with you in the flesh, but I am still hundreds of years your elder and you shall respect that or you shall have NO answers __at all__._"

Hermione felt the harsh stirring of the air around her at the threat and set her jaw but only gave an acknowledging nod. She wanted to reply but knew that the defensive words to come out of her mouth wouldn't have been particularly polite.

"_Now_," Belle smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, pushing away imaginary wrinkles on the immaculate garment and settling her rocky mood at the same time, "_There are many places to begin, but I think it may be best first to start with you._"

"Me?" The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention and she stiffened – this seemed to amuse the other woman.

"_Oui, you._" Bellerose paused in her slow pacing and pointed at the metal rose hanging around Hermione's neck. "_The pendant, where did you acquire such a thing?_"

Her hand immediately went to the item in question, wrapping around it protectively. "...it was my great-great-grandmother's. My father gave it to me, he..," Hermione stuttered, choking at the thought of her father and having to clear her throat before continuing. "He said it was meant to be passed down through the women of our family. And it wasn't a rose it was a lily, it changed. Dad said it was a-"

"_Fleur __de__ memoire._" Belle saw Hermione blanch and she chuckled drawing attention to the necklace that hung around her own neck. "_It was mine. Rhydderch gave it to me as an engagement present, __I changed its appearance and mine when I went into hiding__._"

"Why not just get rid of it?"

The witch fiddled with her own version of the rose, eyes distant. _"The pendant was charmed to hold memories...feelings, emotions – like a locket but with thoughts. It would gather and store them so you would dream sweetly and sleep like you'd taken a potion but without the __awful__ side effects. I had a penchant for nightmares so Rhydderch would have me wear it when we were together and he was being particularly charming. It blooms __when you sleep, you see, releases __bits and pieces of the thoughts into your mind to hopefully soothe you__._" Belle scowled, "_L__ittle did I understand at the time it was __more a way to ensure __that I would not suspect what he was really up to on his long nights away, when he would not have been there to soothe my terrors anyway. __After we consummated our marriage, it never left my neck. It held the memories of my dearest son in its depths as well, I could not simply toss it aside._"

Hermione tugged at the necklace, trying to get a better look at it but the chain was still a solid set of links with no latch and all she accomplished was making ridiculous faces at the little flower. "How do I get it off? No offense intended but I'm quite through with dreaming your dreams!"

She blinked, "_It should come off. __I am not sure why it altered its form back to__..._" Bellerose began to pace again but stopped suddenly, face surprised and mouth in a pronounced oval. "_Oh darling, you didn't!_"

"I didn't _what_?" Hermione asked irritatedly, methodically moving the chain around her neck again to make sure she didn't somehow miss the clasp.

Belle approached the edge of the painting, her heels clicking swiftly across the stone patio of the garden. "_Have you been with that Malfoy man?_"

She stopped. Her gulp was audible. "...been with?"

The older witch clasped both of her hands over her mouth in shock, excitement blooming on her face, she even let loose a giddy – and slightly insane – sounding laugh through her fingers. "_Oh, oh my goodness! I do not know why I did not see it before. Of course you have...the way you two were dressed!_" Belle practically tittered trying to contain herself. "_Oh this is perfect, you both are __perfect!_" She turned to her maid who was still doing her duty well and remaining silent but on call at her Mistress' word. "_Babineaux! See to Mister Malfoy in the next room. I need to show Hermione something! I will need to speak to him shortly, but I need a moment longer with her __and find him some clothing!__ Go!_"

The maid dipped in a curtsey of acknowledgment, "_Yes, right away Mistress._" Mrs. Babineaux scurried from the scene with haste, leaving the other witches alone.

Bellerose bounced on her toes, her skirts swishing about her long legs as she twisted like a happy child with Hermione watching dumbfounded at the roller coaster of moods that belonged to the Lady of the House. "_Come! You must see! This will answer many of your questions and help us both!_"

'_Help us both? How was she __supposed__ to help a painting.._' "H-hey! Hey wait! Where are you going?" Hermione braced her hands on either side of the carved frame, calling to Belle who had already begun scurrying out of sight.

The woman remembered herself, an embarrassed blush coloring her skin. "_My apologies Miss Granger!_" She giggled to herself and pointed at a beautiful piece of black opal that was expertly worked into the design of one of the fireplace's legs. "_Press and follow!_" With that, the witch resumed her exit from the garden, heels echoing a moment before they stopped abruptly, dropping the room into silence again save for the whispers of the fire.

Hermione blinked at the empty painting. She looked back to the gilded door to the room then to the fireplace again, burning with the steady heat from those blue flames. She wanted to get Draco but surely the maid would be bringing him soon...

Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor.

"To hell with it!" Hermione pressed the stone Belle had indicated and with an astonishingly silent movement, the firebox began to slide backwards to swing into the wall that housed it all. When she bent to look at the new opening, she found a path to a set of steep spiral stairs leading to where she guessed Bellerose had ran off to.

_Unknown. Dangerous. Ill-advised. Exciting._

All very good words to describe the situation at hand but Hermione was mostly focused on the last one. After weeks of toiling over files and journals and diaries for a lead or even just an idea and actual **_REAL_ **answers were only a dozen or so steps away... The choice was too obvious and without any further hesitation she stepped over the threshold of the secret room with a huge grin plastered onto her face, completely oblivious to the muted thumps frantically beating on the magically muffled door behind her.

The staircase spit her out into the corner of a decently sized room that reminded Hermione very much of the potions classroom at Hogwarts. Unlike the bed chamber and the rest of the uppermost level, this room was most obviously stone, thick and hearty stone that was meticulously placed and was almost fortress-like in how tightly it was sealed. It was square like the room above but decorative archways divided it into sections – nine to be exact – with four pillars that were evenly spaced around the center of it suspending the arches themselves;carved vine work like she'd seen on the West Wing's entry doors were chiseled into the rock. Torches hung on all four sides of each of the support pillars and where each archway melted into the flat planes of the walls shedding warm blue light on the simple furnishings nearby. There were only three windows that she could spot and each of them were narrow barely there openings that let in little natural light and a rounded oaken door was on the wall catty corner to where she stood at the base of the stairs. The door had a large iron ring handle and a small barred window high in the center of it with a faint hint of light that shone through giving the impression that it may lead outside, maybe through a tunnel or something else a bit further away. Heavy mounted shelves lined most of the free spaces on the walls and atop these were very uniform glass containers housing a myriad of labeled potion ingredients as well as empty glass vials and flasks of varying sizes, thicknesses, shapes, and colors. The shelving was strategically placed to avoid what tendrils of light bled in from the outside and keep from spoiling any delicate ingredients.

Straight ahead from where she stood was a small sitting area, a couple of low backed armchairs facing each other over an expensive looking rug. Beyond that and next to one of the three windows was a dark wooden cabinet, shut and locked with a clunky looking iron padlock. Along the side of the room to her right were two ancient looking tables with well seasoned cauldrons set on cold burners arranged on their tops and a handful of stools set around each one. The section of wall occupying the space between the furthest table and the oak door was a slim reading desk placed in front of a tall free standing bookshelf that was filled with thick books with ratty and worn spines. In the center of it all was a short and delicate looking marble statue that resembled a rose whose petals had yet to bloom. The stem of it was thicker, more like a tree trunk and it twisted around itself smoothly disappearing into the stone floor it sat on like it had grown straight out of it with nothing but ease – she had to admit that the ongoing theme of Belle's rooms was persistent though not wholly unpleasant.

Hermione's attention drifted back to the books, they had to have been centuries old when Bellerose was _alive_, she imagined that they would be full of useful information for her and Draco's needs. These must be what the woman wanted her to see! She started out for them but was stopped short by a sudden and _loud_ grating sound from the center of the room. The moment she approached within a few feet of the statue the thing started moving! The closed bud made a slow show of unfurling, its plates of stone shifting and opening to reveal a deep red colored marble on each petal's inside. The stones brightened, taking on a red glow that overtook all other light in the room and blanketed everything in its pale pink tint. Balanced on the highest peaks of the rose petals was a flat circular mirrored surface that had a simple pearl rim with golden runes etched into its surface that shone like molten metal. The unruly grinding noise didn't stop until the mirror had been lifted to about waist level and was then replaced with the steady hum of power that vibrated the dungeon-like walls.

"_Glad you finally made it._"

Hermione squeaked, startled, though admittedly she did forget she was actually meeting her painted ancestor here. She turned to see a life sized portrait of Bellerose on the wall nearest to the sitting area she'd spotted earlier – how she missed the thing on her first once over, she wasn't entirely sure, but the woman was in the same attire as before and looking at her with an amused glint in her eye. "Oh! Sorry...I was just...what is this place?"

Belle smirked, opening her arms in a welcoming gesture, "_Welcome to my hideaway! __I would often come here to be away from my husband when we would come here on holiday. It is ironic is it not? I fought so hard to get him and once I had him...I was constantly trying to get away. Though to be fair, he was a bit...heavy handed._"

The younger witch frowned at the implication but found herself entranced by the statue behind her once again – how could she not? It was glowing and humming quite blatantly, after all. "What is **_this_**?"

"_That,_" she clapped eagerly,"_Is my scrying pool. __That is what I wanted to show you._"

Hermione moved toward the object but allowed a glance back to the painting to offer a brief scrunched look of distaste. "_Scrying?_"

Bellerose quirked an eyebrow, "_You do not practice?_"

Her bushy curls bounced as she shook her head emphatically, "It's a lot of rubbish is what it is." She said the words before she could stop herself and tried to amend it quickly, figuring someone that had such an ornate device in their basement probably wouldn't appreciate it being insulted. "Wh-what I mean is, it's so imprecise. There is no definitive equation or rules or-or...or anything!" She grimaced and grumbled sourly, "Someone once told me that I lacked the mind for the art...we should say I am not good at it and leave it at that."

The woman shook her head with a chuckle, "_Well that is indeed a shame. As a LeClair it is somewhat a specialty. I suppose that is my fault as well for you though._" She sighed, folding one arm across her midsection to prop her opposite elbow in her palm, the fingers of her other hand drumming lightly over her lips. "_No matter. I have confidence it will work for you._"

"What? You want me to look into it?" Hermione came up to the edge of the floral statue, tucking herself in a subtle gap left by the spread of petals so she could more easily see into the surface of the mirror. She stared at her skeptical reflection and pursed her lips with impatience. "I see me, just me. Is this like a Pensieve or...?"

Though Hermione couldn't see, Belle rolled her eyes at the girl's obvious unwillingness to try. From her spot in the painting she stood on her toes trying to peer over the other witch's shoulder. "_In a way. The mirror will show you anything you desire to see: past, present, future, it is a very powerful tool and to be used carefully, sparingly. It is a family heirloom and will only work for those of our __line. Even for a skilled seer, the images may not always be completely clear. In my experiences, present time is easiest to view as it is happening in the moment. The past may be more difficult depending on how long ago you seek to view, sometimes those images come through like muddied memories – this is more like the Pensieve you are familiar with but oftentimes with less clarity._"

Her interest was piqued, Hermione couldn't deny it. As foolish as she believed divination to be, an enchanted scrying pool was awfully tempting. She leaned closer to the mirrored surface, her intense curiosity getting the better of her, "And the future?"

"_The hardest of them all, of course._" Belle smiled softly and paced in slow circles in her portrait whilst fiddling with her pendant. "_The future is uncertain and delicate. __Some__ things will come to pass no matter what you do or do not do to try and prevent them. When you glimpse into the future, the outlines are vague, names unsure...having even just the knowledge is dangerous and depending on what you do with it...you can alter the way of things. __I would advise you _**_never_**_ to search the pool for future happenings._"

Hermione looked to her again then, sensing something in her dropped tone, "...what did you see?"

"_This,_" she gestured around her solemnly, "_My life with Rhydderch, that we would we__d...that I would have a son. A smattering of images that at the time made me so very happy. I...I wanted these things to happen so badly._" Belle frowned and shook her head, hiding the wetness building in the corner of her eyes, "_I allowed my hopeful dreams to lead my actions. I ignored the other signs around me and focused only on the pieces that I wanted to make it to light and forced them into action myself. It drove me to this...to what I am sorry to say you have become a part of._"

She gazed sadly at Bellerose, the woman's shoulders slumped and lips drew down in a resigned frown. Hermione remembered her intense hurt and fury, the amalgamation of emotions into one big lump of desperation from her dream – memory? - from when the curse was first set into motion and couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She would never support the actions she took, but the soul shattering emptiness she'd felt when the dream Belle was realizing her fiance's rejection had chilled her to the bone and it made all the more sense to her now. "You said I could help us both with this. How?"

Belle sniffed and stealthily cleared some moisture from her eyelashes, "_Any questions you have of the past, ask the mirror. It will show you your answers better than I ever could describe. It will bring you understanding of what happene__d and perhaps then we can work to break the curse once and for all._"

Hermione let her focus go back to the smooth glass and she ran her fingers across the pearl edge enthralled by the patterns of the ancient runes inscribed there. She searched her mind for the translations to the etchings. '_The truth __ye__ seek...secrets I do keep...look beyond the surface and ye shall find them..._' Her eyes examined her reflection roving over the crystal clear picture and unable to pull her attention away from all the vivid details she saw. "Pardon me but...what interest do you have in breaking the curse now?" The question was lazy, her eyelids drooping the longer she stared into the mirror.

"_A promise that I made...to __my son__,_" Bellerose smiled fondly at the young witch, watching her head fall further forward toward the statue though not quite close enough to touch; she clearly did not notice when the solid pane of glass rippled and formed into the scrying pool resembling something akin to liquid mercury. Belle coaxed her softly, "_Ask your questions of the past now, it will tell you all you long to know of it. I will answer the ones that are left after you are through._"

Hermione opened her mouth as though she were to say something else but simply nodded instead, thoroughly mesmerized by the pull of the enchantment. She braced her weight against the marble petals surrounding the silver liquid that now floated over top the rose statue and breathed an easy, relaxed sigh as the dozens of questions on her mind surfaced and the scrying pool tugged her second sight through visions of the past.

Bellerose observed the girl silently a few moments longer, smiling a secretive smile. Once she was sure Hermione was alright, she turned to return to one of her portraits upstairs – she needed to check on the girl's companion and see what in Merlin's name he was rattling the walls about.


	23. Chapter 22 - The Shame

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** Finally was able to get something uploaded. I'm still getting some recurring errors here and there but I find if I press the links _really _hard to show them that I mean business, I can sometimes get in long enough to get things taken care of. Almost done shoving huge loaves of plot down your throats so we can get to the actual romance portion of this thing. As always, I thank you all for your continued patience and appreciate you reading. Please continue to read and review as you so choose.

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**__****Thursday, February 16, 2001 – LeClair Manor**

"Granger!" Pound pound pound. "GRANGER! HERMIONE! OPEN THE DOOR!"

"_Is it your intention to wake the dead? Because you are well on your way to doing so._"

"YOU!" Draco turned, snarling in the direction of the accented voice and spotting a small rectangular picture hung on the wall opposite the gold door. "Where is she? What have you done with Granger?"

Belle hummed, tapping her dainty fingers to her lips and seeming pleased by the blonde's near frantic behavior. "_She is safe..._" At his evil look she teased, "_W__hat? Afraid I was going to whisk her away to have my __wicked__ way with her? I am just oil and canvas, remember?_"

The wizard didn't like the mockery coming from the woman and planted a hand on either side of her frame to bare his teeth more menacingly. "WHERE is she?"

"_Oh that does not look good at all,_" Bellerose ignored the question, more intent on examining the sharp fangs held inches away from the surface of her painting. "_The beast has already begun to bleed through..._"

"Listen you bitch-"

"_LANGUAGE Mister Malfoy!_" She snapped harshly, eyes hard now with all traces of her previous amusement gone. "_And YOU listen to ME, I am not your enemy and you would do well to remember that._"

He growled and sneered maliciously at the witch, "You're a liar."

She tutted, "_I am many things, Mister Malfoy, but __I hardly think a liar is one of them__. Hermione is safe and unharmed and will remain so, so long as you listen to me. Your curse is in need of attention and it would be easier if you shut your mouth and paid attention for all of our sakes._"

Draco's jaw tensed and his nostrils flared as he reflexively scented the air. His brows shot up in surprise when he caught wind of a faint trace of roses and another heady fragrance that reminded him of Hermione, if not a bit heavier, and it was most definitely coming from Bellerose's portrait. The fact that the object had any human scent in the first place much less such a strong one made the hairs on his neck prickle; the fact that the scent itself didn't trigger his instincts telling him that she was lying to him made him even more suspicious. "What _are_ you?"

Belle offered him a shrug, "_A woman who made mistakes? __A witch who dabbled in the wrong things? Someone who didn't fully understand the ramifications of her actions? Take your pick Mister Malfoy...any of these would be correct._" When the man lessened his threatening stance some, she motioned to the room he'd occupied earlier. "_Come. Let us speak privately a moment._"

"I'm not going anywhere with you until I see Hermione," Draco's snarl returned immediately.

"_She is busy at the moment._" When he didn't budge she sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, "_Hermione is viewing memories in my scrying pool and will likely be tied up for some time. She is a very curious one you know, reminds me a bit of myself..._"

"Then take me to her! Open the damn door and once I make sure she's untouched, THEN maybe I'll listen to the bullshit you plan on feeding me."

Belle's head ticked to one side and she took in the sight of the wizard. His lack of dress offered an excellent view of every exposed bit of flesh above and below the rag barely covering his privates. He had a peppering of bruises on his chest and neck and several sets of partially healed nail marks that raked over the bulk of his could easily see his shifting and tensing muscles just under the surface, seemingly unnerved by her proximity and continued lackadaisical replies. Draco was wound tightly like a spring, ready to snap at her at any and every given moment if she let him. She leaned forward in the portrait, her face growing larger the closer she came to the barrier and a small hand reached towards the wizard.

"_Perhaps __you should calm yourself and consider __that I may be of assistance to you. And that __you __may__ not __be__ the only one affected by th__is__ curse,_" her fingers brushed along the invisible wall between them and instead of stopping, they actually pushed against the canvas making the side facing Draco bow outward in accordance with the gentle pressure she applied. Her painted image rippled like water on a lake, tiny rings growing steadily from each spot she touched until she retracted her hand. Belle looked at the pads of her fingers, rubbing them against each other with a frown before she glanced back up to see the blonde wizard staring at her wide-eyed and slack jawed. "_Draco, come. I promise you, your love is safe but we must speak __so you understand what she is learning from the pool__._"

The witch disappeared from view to meet him in Abelard's old room without further conversation and Draco stared at the empty spot in shock, so much so that he didn't even think to dispute the claim she made about his and Hermione's...association. He knew there was something wrong about this place from the moment they set foot in it. Paintings, even enchanted ones didn't do that – they COULDN'T do that. Captured memories didn't have the lucidity that this woman did, they didn't have conversations like theirs, they didn't act as she did, and they sure as fucking hell couldn't even begin to push their way out of their own bloody paintings! He looked over his shoulder to the guest bedroom with narrowed eyes resolving to find out what in the name of Merlin was going on here.

Draco tromped into the bedchambers gesturing angrily at the painting the woman just vacated, "What the fuck was THAT?! You want me to trust you after seeing _THAT_?" He looked around trying to find which picture she was hiding in this time.

Belle cleared her throat from the landscape that her maid had visited Draco in earlier, clearly displeased at where it had landed on the floor from his earlier actions. "_If you would be so kind as to replace my picture to somewhere more appropriate, I will explain._" She braced herself as the irate wizard stomped over to the landscape and roughly propped it up on the nearby dresser.

"There. Now start talking," he growled.

"_It is good to know that the Malfoy clan has not become any gentler __or less insolent__ in their mannerisms over the __years__,_" she snarked and took a seat on the grass, arranging her skirt comfortably.

"You have about five seconds before I rip all your damn paintings to shreds and blast the remnants of this bleeding manor to pieces to find Granger and drag her home. **EXPLAIN**."

Bellerose knew from her observations thus far that the man had no wand to speak of so the latter half of the threat was all heat and no flame but the first part of it concerned her well enough and she did her best not to show it. She ran her hands through the neatly trimmed blades of grass around her, sighing at his insistence but relented. "_My manor, yours, __you, Hermione, my son...__myself__...we are all victims of the curse as much as my husband __was and it wasn't until it was at its worst that I realized it before__. __Hermione told me some of what you know of it, but I suspect the full range of its damage was 'lost' over the years._"

He glared at her but took a seat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward resting his arms on his thighs. "What are you talking about? There are dozens of journals and records in the Malfoy archives talking about it. It's all the same shit that I'm going through now."

"_That is precisely what I am speaking of,_" she sighed, "_Records of how to cope with it, __with this, __for each generation__, but nothing on how to _**_stop_**_ it, am I correct? It's like a black spot exists in your records is it not?_"

Draco's eyes widened a hair, forgetting to try to maintain his stoicism at the inkling that he could stop these foul experiences, "You know how to stop it?"

"_Of course I do. Your __older__ ancestors did as well but they apparently opted to avoid pursuing the solution and instead chose to hide or destroy the most relevant of information._"

"What? Why the fuck would they let this keep happening?!"

"_Blood prejudice, Mister Malfoy._" At his quizzical expression, she continued, "_Long ago when __we learned__ the curse reared itself in my son, Rhydderch and I had to arrange Abelard's marriage. As you may imagine, it was decidedly difficult to find a witch who would take vows with a monster __under the reassurance that he would return to normal after the wedding night__. __We had many conversations and had to wipe just as many memories of them ever even taking place._" She plucked at the painted grass absently, "_It turned out that our son had a woman that he already fancied, however. __A secret beau, __if you will__. __Her name was Ellisandra. She was a most beautiful woman."_

At the mention of the girl, Belle's face fell, she looked regretful.

"_She was kind, absolutely __BRILLIANT__, __spirited...__and most of all she loved my son. __Not our money, not our name, _**_him_**_. __H__e was convinced that she would never agree, that she __would be too frightened, that she would run, that she was just too good for him. Rhydderch for all his usefulness refused to __even __speak with her parents._"

Draco seemed more confused, "Why would he pass up the most likely opportunity to break the spell? Was she a half-blood or something? I know I haven't seen that name referenced anywhere on our tree or those books."

"_Oh I would think not__, Draco, she was Muggle-born. Not a trace of magical blood in her family. The young woman didn't even know that Abelard was a wizard. There would be no acknowledgment of her in the Manor at all._"

He didn't bother hiding the astonishment on his face. In the back of his mind he wanted to sneer and scoff at the thought of a Malfoy falling in love with a Muggle anything. Three years ago he most certainly _would_ have, but now...

"_I spoke with the girl. I still remember how frightened she was when she saw me coming,_" she chuckled fondly, "_Ellisandra...Elle, she was very understanding. She __loved__ my son, Draco, __you understand__. Not the love that I thought I had for his father...real, true, heart-wrenching _**_LOVE_**_. It was the kind that I always desired and thought I could force out of Rhydderch. Unlike my husband, she had no problem accepting what we were and jumped at the chance to help Abelard...to help us all __however she could__. __She even agreed to leave __only__ a note to her parents saying she __had __eloped. The poor thing would have loved for her parents to see her in her wedding gown.__ Draco she was...she was a magnificent woman..._"

"What...what happened to her?" The way Bellerose's form shrank in on itself at the recollection made him afraid to hear the answer.

Belle drew a shuddering breath, uncaring of the few tears that slipped down her cheeks. "_They married. She even bore the next Malfoy hei__r__. This was the straw that broke the camel's back, as they say. Rhydderch was displeased but allowed the marriage for the sake of our son's humanity...but when he saw the half-blooded child... He thought to punish us: me for ever enacting the curse to bring his family to such 'dire straits' and Abelard for tainting the bloodline." _She wiped at her eyes with her forearm, the tears flowing more freely now and she stood from her spot on the grass to approach the barrier of the painting, "_He killed her. He tortured and killed her and he made Abelard _**_watch_**_. Chained him down and flayed the skin off her body inch by inch in front of her husband and her infant son. She was a savior to our son __and the fire to the candle of his heart__ and MY foolishness for starting this all was what __destroyed her AND__our__ family__._"

There weren't words, or at least he couldn't find them.

Living with the Dark Lord made Draco privy to many disgusting things, disturbing things and punishments he saw fit to use against unsuspecting Muggle-borns for no reason aside from the fact that they existed at all. Draco could imagine all too vividly the kind of scene his ancestor was subjected to; it made him recall the way Hermione's screams rattled his skull and turned his stomach when his crazy aunt had her writhing on the floor from _Crucio_ after _Crucio_. He shuddered and moved to pace the bedroom, swiping a clammy hand down his face. There was more she hadn't told him yet, he knew this had to be only the tip of the iceberg but the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach from hearing even this much filled him with the need to be near Hermione. Rubbing at his forehead he turned back to the painting harshly, "I want to see Granger. No more of any of this shit until after I see her."

Bellerose looked at the blonde wizard and the slight tremble in his shoulders, eyes wide and just generally unsettled. She nodded, exhaling shakily herself. "_Yes. Yes, that is a good idea. She will have to open the door...wait here Draco. I promise you she is safe, I will just be a moment._"

Draco let out a forced breath through his nose, lips pursed and brow set in a stern line but he nodded as well and resumed his pacing. "Five minutes and I'm busting through the damn wall."

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

The images flashed quickly one after the other, blending together in places, slowing down in others. Hermione was bent over the pool physically but her mind was being dragged through events of the past at a breakneck speed.

_-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-_

_Two hands, palms facing each other, interlinked. One was small, pale, and delicate with a silver ring that held a large, expensive looking green gem set into its prongs. The other was massive and muscular and covered in russet colored fur with thick black nails topping each finger._

"_...love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep only to her as long as you both shall live?..."_

"_-__obey __him and serve him, love, honor, and keep him..."_

"_...__until death do us part."_

"_With all my worldly goods, I thee endow."_

"_...Mister and Missus Abelard Tristan Malfoy..."_

_A slender dark haired woman smiled up at a large, broad shouldered beast. She combed her right hand through the fur at his face, her left still entwined with his as thin magical chains hovered __over__ their clasped hands and wove themselves in and around their fingers __circling closer and closer until they dissolved into their __skin__. The coarse fur covering his flesh had already begun to recede by the time his head dipped downwards and captured __her lips in a searing kiss that was just shy of indecent before the two onlookers._

_A surprised __noise__ came from the form of Bellerose as she observed the lifting of her son's curse._

_-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-_

_The dark haired woman sat on a small hill overlooking beautifully landscaped gardens, petting the soft petals of a lily idly while staring off to the distance._

"_What ails you Elle?"_

_The woman looked up and offered a welcoming smile to Bellerose, scooting over to allow her room on her blanket. "It is nothing...I am just thinking."_

_Belle arched an eyebrow and took a seat next to her, clearly skeptical. "Of? Come now dear, I know that look. Has my son done something to displease you? I can speak with him you know, it isn't a problem-"_

"_Oh no!" Her eyes were wide, head shaking back and forth emphatically, "Not a thing! Abel is brilliant! He has been wonderful, simply wonderful...I just.."_

"_Mm? Spit it out then?"_

_She looked to her lap, resuming the fiddling with the flower. "__I am with child."_

_The older witch's eyes rounded in budding delight and she let loose an excited squeal, "OH! Darling that is excellent news! Are you not happy?"_

_Elle looked to Bellerose and nodded with a wide grin but it was gone as quickly as it came, "I just...I do not think your husband will be pleased at this news."_

_Belle's own face fell, sobering at the girl's words. "Oh my..." She reached out to her, smoothing a comforting hand down Elle's long, straight locks. She nodded and tugged her close with an arm about her shoulders. "As usual, your understanding of these things is not wrong."_

_The woman nodded sullenly, resuming her gazing into the distance comfortably tucked against Bellerose's side. They sat like that for several long minutes, Elle looking wistfully into nothing and Bellerose obviously thinking, searching for a solution._

"_Here," she said suddenly, helping the girl sit more upright while she fiddled with something. _

_Belle unclasped the rose necklace from her neck __and set it in her lap while she__ pulled her wand from a snug spot where it'd been tucked just inside her sleeve. __She whispered something over the pendant that sounded like 'Geminio' and flicked her wand and another identical necklace appeared beside it. With another wave of her wand she muttered a Protean charm and another spell that was hard to make out over the two items. Once she was finished, she proudly held the __original__ necklace up for Elle to see, the girl's eyes were huge as she blinked at it. Belle chuckled and motioned for her to lift her hair so she could fasten it, once the pendant was secured around her neck the chain heated lightly just before the clasp disappeared._

_Elle gasped and barely restrained herself from tugging at the chain in a panic, "What just happened?"_

_The witch fastened her copy of it around her own neck and took the woman's hands in her own. "Shh shh shh, do not worry. This will help to keep you saf__e. You can use it to call on me."_

"_But I do not have magic."_

_Belle nodded, "I know darling, I know." She tugged at the chain, "This will remain solid while you are with child and none shall be able to move it from your neck. If you are in need __of help and my son is not there to protect you, call my name, __call for help, will it so, anything__, __and__ I will be taken to you."_

"_What if you cannot come?" She asked, looking at the finely sculpted metal __rose__._

"_Unlikely," Bellerose shook her head and rubbed the girl's arm reassuringly, "But if I cannot, it will bring you to me. Use this if you feel you are in danger." She cupped Elle's cheek softly and offered her a comforting smile, "I am sorry for all of this. I imagine it is nothing like what you ever dreamed marriage __and family life__ to be."_

_Elle chuckled dryly and patted the hand soothing her worries, openly thankful for the gesture. "It is certainly nothing I ever expected. But I would not change my husband for the world," she smiled th__e__n, a bright, brilliantly happy smile. "We are going to have a baby!"_

_-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-__-._.-._.-_

Hermione gasped, head coming up sharply from its spot near the pool of silver liquid. She trembled, hand seeking the pendant fastened around her neck suddenly feeling very dizzy and out of sorts. '_Pregnant...no...no no no no._' She covered her face with her hands taking in deep calming breaths to try to settle her nerves. This wasn't happening. She couldn't do this. Not now and certainly not with _him_. Leave it to Draco _bleeding_ Malfoy to ruin all her carefully laid out plans for her future.

She froze. '_The future..._'

Hermione eyed the scrying pool again. This could show her...it could give her an idea of what would happen at least. She knew Bellerose said not to but if she had to carry a Malfoy child she felt she deserved to know what she was to expect. The woman took a deep breath and sidled back up to the softly glowing rose statue before speaking softly to the object, "What will happen to Draco and I?"

It only took seconds of looking into the reflective surface before her consciousness was dragged under again, but the images that followed this time were broken and foggy.

_Silver eyes full of wonder, confusion, joy, and anxiety looked up at her, hands reaching for her own._

_A broad smile took place of an infuriating smirk on a pair of familiar lips._

_Pale hands lowered a bright silver chain around her neck, __this one __fitting more closely than the one holding the metal rose. A__n elegant sweep of silver curled like a teardrop wrapping around an oval shaped emerald with a row of round white sapphires trailing back up to the point where it linked to the chain. The gem glittered brightly __in a mirror. Arms wrapped around her waist from behind and a pointed chin rested lightly on her shoulder, the owner's cheek nuzzling against her ow__n sweetly._

_Two figures around her, one to her side, the other slumped on the floor. __Broken stones.__ Dark clothes. Blood – __on it__, on her hands, hands that shook badly, frantically pawing at the form curled on stone tiles, red growing to form a pool around it. She was crying, sobbing, full body shaking sobs._

_Her name. _

"_Hermione!"_

"_Hermione!"_

"_HERMIONE!"_

Hermione shot up and away from the scrying pool, chest heaving, shuddering, tears streaking down her cheeks. She held a hand to her chest trying to calm her breathing.

"_Hermione? Dear, are you alright?_"

The witch recognized the voice of Bellerose and gulped in a steadying breath, wiping her face as discreetly as she could with the back of her arm. She took a few breaths before she finally turned to face the large painting. "Fine. I'm fine."

Belle looked at her skeptically noting her reddened eyes and traces of moisture on her skin that caught in the low glow of the light, "_You are sure? You look...distressed._" She hedged the subject delicately, she knew that depending on what questions the girl sought answers for there were certainly many disturbing memories that she could have been privy to. She wasn't sure if she should have prepared her more for such things, though the witch was so headstrong it was unlikely she would have listened to her anyway.

"Yes. Thank you...for your concern though."

"_Certainly,_" she nodded entirely unconvinced but let it go for the moment, knowing if she dawdled much longer the wizard would resume his incessant pounding on her chamber door. "_I know there is much to view but Mister Malfoy would like to see you._"

Hermione paled, finally realizing that she had probably been gone for much more than a few minutes like she'd originally promised him. "Shit!" She sped up the stairs and through the hidden fireplace entryway tearing across the space to open the golden bedroom door. Hermione glanced around her half expecting the blonde to be waiting for her in the hall confused when she didn't see him there, "Draco?"

Draco had finally at least halted his pacing and was leaning against the dresser rubbing at his face when he heard her rushing footsteps and then her voice. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her presence until she was there again and it was like a heavy weight was lifted from his shoulders. "Hermione!" He pushed away from his perch and met her in the hall, looking at her only a moment before pulling her into a vice-like embrace. The girl grunted as the air was squeezed from her petite frame and he took a deep inhale of her scent, burying his nose in her hair.

"Draco-" she choked.

Her voice made him realize the death grip he had on her and he loosened it, but only slightly. His hands planted firmly on her shoulders as he shoved her at arm's length to glare down at her face. "You know for someone so bloody smart, you're fucking stupid as shit!"

Hermione's previously pleasant demeanor soured and she was ready to give him a piece of her mind. "Hey! Look here you oversized prat-!"

"What the hell were you thinking going with her?!" Draco ignored her and flailed an arm in the direction of Bellerose's room just now noticing the eerie looking pathway opened up behind the fireplace.

"We were just talking!"

"Talking?! Going into some secret bloody room and sticking your _bloody_ head in a **_bloody_ **magic pool isn't _TALKING_!"

Hermione flushed and smacked the hand that wasn't waving about wildly off of her shoulder. "Why do _you_ care ANYway?!" She shoved him angrily, extremely irritated when it didn't budge him an inch so she did it again to spite him. "And for your information, we DID talk and that '**_bloody_**_ magic pool_' may be our key to fixing your problem. _I_ was busy trying to put an end to this ridiculous business between the two of us so we can go back to hating each other PROPERLY. What were YOU doing all this time?!"

Draco growled and shoved her hard against the nearest hallway wall, so hard the impact jarred a couple of the small paintings loose. His eyes were a heated liquid silver, lip curled back in a sneer, and the overall deadly glare he was sending Hermione's way looked almost as if he were about to hit her. She flinched when he came closer, eyes shut tightly expecting some sort of slap or backhand. Instead she felt the firm press of his lips over hers and when she gasped in surprise he took the chance to deepen the kiss. He coaxed her mouth open with an insistent massaging of her bottom lip with his own, swooping his tongue in to slide so lightly over the inside of her upper lip that it tickled; she shivered and let out a soft whimper, melting into the arms that had come back around her midsection, her own hooking around his neck. She felt him growl a low, lazy rumble into her mouth and he squeezed her more tightly and closer to him pulling away to worry her lip between his teeth. Hermione felt sharp edges graze over the plump flesh and split it, a warm, salty, coppery tang dropping onto her tongue. She gasped again when he suckled on it, his tongue stroking over the injury apologetically while he wrapped her in his arms, one hand slipped under her tank top to splay against her bare back and the other slid into the tangle of chestnut curls that was her bushy mane. When he finally pulled away from her mouth, Hermione's face, neck, and chest were flushed pink, her lips swollen and red, and her eyes half-lidded and dazed: she looked very thoroughly snogged.

The blonde closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers and expelled a sigh which raised goosebumps on her skin. "Worrying you were dead you frizzy haired, bossy, buck-toothed bint..."

His words lacked their typical snark and venom and held hints of concern and relief in their places. Hermione shook her head and released the hold on his neck, running her fingertips down over his bare shoulders and chest to sweep back around and up his back to rest between his shoulderblades. "I'm sorry I made you worry...you obnoxious albino brat. And my teeth were fixed."

Draco kept his eyes closed but smirked, comfortable in the way she rubbed soft circles over his skin and he reciprocated with the one hand still at her back. "If only we could find a way to fix that stuck up, prudish, know-it-all attitude next."

"Perhaps after we discover a way to remove all the loathsome, vile, and ignorant traits from you and your gene pool."

"Bitch.."

"Ferret."

A soft '_ahem_' interrupted their oddly endearing schoolyard banter.

"_Children? __If you are quite through..._"

Hermione immediately snapped her attention to the small portrait Draco had threatened earlier, blushing again at the strange intimacy that the woman witnessed between them and quickly worked on extracting herself from his hold. Draco was much lazier in his acknowledgment of the other witch and was also audibly reluctant with the way he grumbled and growled after Hermione finally untangled herself from his embrace.

Bellerose looked to the two of them, the most unconventional couple she'd personally seen, and cleared her throat again. "_Allow me to try this again...it has been a great long time since I have had any company __so perhaps my initial approach was overhasty__. Why don't you both join me in my hideaway...together? We shall discuss our family._"

Hermione looked to Draco trying to gauge his reaction when Belle indicated her when she mentioned 'family'. By the look on his face – more like his intense stare and slight grimace at Bellerose's retreating back – he didn't seem shocked at all. Perhaps more...perturbed? Definitely irritated. She was going to speak again but the older woman popped her head back into view.

"_Oh, you may want to find yourselves some clothes as well. __There __should be __some__ in the __wardrobes of your respective rooms. Meet me downstairs when you are through,_" she made to leave again then paused once more to add, "_That is not a request._" Then she was gone.

Draco snorted at the now empty portrait, "At least we know where you get your bossy attitude from."

Hermione scowled and gave him a firm, open handed smack to the chest that made a resounding _SMACK!_ echo in the hall.


	24. Chapter 23 - The Cursed

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N:** After a delightful scare where my flash drive fell apart, some recovery efforts, and a bit of rewriting: here you go. Moving forward as best we can. I'd like to take a little moment for a sort-of-PSA, just to express how much other authors really inspire me. I haven't written anything in years before this and my few other stories and I strive to be as good as some of the authors here that I favorite and follow. If anyone is looking for folks that are really, _way_ better at this than I, I encourage you to check out my profile and peruse my favorite stories. There is some real talent out there that always keeps me going when I need inspiration...or when my flash drive explodes and I fear that I've lost everything (thank goodness for many different tiers of backups). Anyway, check them out and also please continue to read and review as you so choose.

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**__****Thursday, February 16, 2001 – LeClair Manor**

Hermione and Draco reconvened in Belle's secret room downstairs, she having found a light shift that she'd pulled on over her scant tank top and shorts and he a pair of snugly fitting trousers and baggy tunic – it wasn't the epitome of style, but at least a bit warmer for the both of them. Draco made his way around the room, eying the furnishings of it all still covered in the soft pink glow while Hermione stood in the sitting area near Bellerose's painting.

"Why is this all down here? Hidden behind a wall?" Draco paused his walk of the room near the cauldrons in one of the corners. Peering into their depths he sniffed, surprised when he could still detect the familiar smell of brewed potions. A pain potion? Blood replenishment? The combination of these things being the most recent brew to hit the bottom of the cauldrons caused that lingering feeling of suspicion to resurface and he made his way back to his witch's side.

"_I did not enjoy being disturbed in my work. It was most delicate and Rhydderch had no sense for subtlety. Not to mention he hated me, so I moved it somewhere he could not reach – behind a door a Malfoy could not open and down in the basement._"

He growled threateningly working his way between where Hermione stood and the full sized painting, "Just what kind of work were you doing that required you to brew blood replenishment and pain potions? Planning on getting some people killed?" Bellerose did well hiding her surprise in him being able to identify the potions but he sensed her unease just the same.

"_Are you still on about me being untrustworthy, Mister Malfoy?_" Belle gave him a pronounced sigh, "_What must I do to earn your trust?_"

"Well for starters you can tell me what that was upstairs."

"What happened?"

Draco eyed Hermione over his shoulder and snarled in the direction of the portrait, "She was pushing her way out of her painting is what!" He seemed to realize that this particular painting showed the woman at her full stature – her full, real, life-sized height – and he growled, tucking the witch behind him again. "Is that why you dragged us down here then? Planning on stepping through the looking glass? Bugger that shit, c'mon Granger, we need to get the hell out of here." He grabbed her wrist and started dragging her back upstairs.

"_Wait! Please wait!_"

He halted his steps but he still kept himself between Belle and Hermione. "What? Ready to come clean with all the crap you've been feeding us so far?"

She shook her head, "_Please. Let me show you one final thing, if you still feel no reason to trust me, you can leave. I believe Abelard's fireplace is connected to the Floo network though as you may understand, access to Malfoy Manor has been cut off a long time ago but you should be able to take it to any major location. Just please, let me show you this...it is the solution to ridding the line of the curse and it is just in the next room._" She pointed to the heavy dungeon door across the room with the soft light filtering through the small barred window.

Her mention of the solution caught his attention and Draco hesitated, mulling over the risks in his head.

Hermione spoke softly at his back, her free hand coming down to gently rest over the one that still held a firm grip on her wrist. "Draco, it's just past that door. We should at least take a look before we go...we've come this far."

Draco turned to look at her like she'd grown a second then a third head, unable to believe what he was hearing from the small woman. "Are you _DAFT, _Granger? You've been speaking bloody nonsense ever since we got here. Come on, we're leaving." He resumed his path back to the spiral staircase with a reluctant Hermione being dragged in his wake.

Belle pushed persistently. "_But what of your curse, Mister Malfoy?_"

"I'll fucking deal with it."

"_And what of your child?" _She added slyly. "_Will you allow him to suffer your same fate if you cannot find him a wife in time?_"

Hermione stopped and paled, becoming a lead weight at the end of his hand when she heard the woman. She couldn't keep the venomous dark look from her face towards the portrait at revealing this in such a way. SHE hadn't even had time to come to terms with it, the _nerve_ she had in telling a secret that was not hers to tell...

Draco didn't seem to realize at first what the woman in the painting was saying until her turned back to Hermione to glare at her and tell her to move and saw that she had gone white as a sheet. Several emotions flitted across her face: shock, anger, fear, hurt, regret. It was only then that the questions actually registered and he too suddenly found himself frozen in place and perhaps a bit whiter as well.

"Child?" He asked Belle but his eyes were on Hermione. Hers were huge, rounded, and afraid. Afraid of the secret that had just been let out. Afraid of his reaction. Afraid of having it at all. He wasn't entirely sure WHY she shook now, but she did and an anger built in his gut at the way the other woman just dropped this information like she did.

"_Yes, Draco,_" Bellerose's tone was a touch patronizing, "_What do you think happens when you take a woman to bed?_"

Draco swallowed, eyes still locked on the petite woman whose wrist he held. "You.."

Her bottom lip started to tremble but she steadied it, setting her jaw firmly before nodding and answering with more strength than she felt. "..yeah.."

"So I...we're gonna...?"

Another nod. "Yes."

The wizard had to take a handful of deep in-and-out breaths before he was able to speak again. A baby. They were going to have a _baby_. Draco didn't know what to think. He should be excited maybe? Elated? Angry? He'd never had this happen before – obviously – he had no fucking clue. They were barely better than acquaintances before the magic took hold of the both of them and made them do...**_this_**. He and Granger hadn't even gone on a proper date and he managed to get her pregnant and saddled up with a centuries old curse in no time flat. '_Way to go, Draco, old chap. You're fucking two for two. Merlin damned wanker..._'

"Draco?" The brunette called to him hesitantly.

Draco's attention snapped back to Hermione who was still there, that strong jaw still set in place and her shoulders doing their best not to shake for reasons that had nothing to do with the chill breezing through the basement room. A fierce protectiveness welled in his chest at seeing her like that. She was a proud woman, always had an answer for anything and always had something to say about EVERYTHING, and here she was stunned into a scared near silence with worry and doubt etched all over every inch of her face regardless how hard she tried to play it off. Draco tugged her to him, wrapped her in his arms and soothed a hand down through her mass of curls feeling her body shudder and the warm breath that accompanied the exhaled puff across his neck.

He narrowed his eyes at Belle and growled, "I don't care what's in the other room, I could give two shits about it, in fact. You want me to trust you? Tell me how to lift the curse without all the bleeding runaround. I don't want to fetch this or that or go here and there and look at mystical fucking objects – here and now, how do you break it?" He felt Hermione's head turn to the painting now as well as she peered up at it.

Belle quirked an eyebrow at the two sets of narrowed and angry eyes looking at her – perhaps her hasty reveal was a bad idea as it seemed she'd lost anything she'd just built with the girl in that one simple move. She nodded. "_Very well then," _Belle straightened, "_You must kill the originators of the curse._"

Hermione lifted her head from its spot against Draco's collarbone but didn't budge otherwise. She fixed an incredulous stare at the other woman, "Kill them? That would be you and Rhydderch... which would mean you and him are-"

"_Alive? Very much so._"

The confirmation of this set Draco off again and he gripped Hermione more tightly, edging her to the side of him furthest from Bellerose. "I KNEW it! I fucking KNEW it!" He exclaimed and jabbed an accusatory finger in her direction, "I KNEW you were hiding something!"

Even now with the seriousness of the conversation at hand, Belle found his reaction worth rolling her eyes at. "_Shall I lead with that next time?_" The sarcasm was obviously not lost on him by the response on his face.

Draco finally released Hermione again and approached the painting with a sneer that flashed sharp rows of fangs, his gait was too smooth and lithe for a man, "If I had known the cure was that easy, I would have shredded your stupid painting from the moment you suggested we separate!"

"_DON'T you dare!_," a hand came out haltingly, too sharply to the point where it pressed at the canvas and she heard Hermione's gasp a few feet away. Snatching her hand back like it was burnt, she folded her hands over her chest instead, "_What I mean to say is if you shred the portraits then you __will have NO way of breaking the curse._"

"I think you're lying," he began looking for something sharp enough to shred through the material showcasing Belle's enchanted figure.

"_If you choose to believe anything I say, __you insolent boy__, believe this!" _Bellerose's voice was loud and commanding and rattled the dozens of ingredient jars on the room's shelving._ "If you __destroy__ this portrait, you will be unable to kill me __to break the curse__. These pictures, these frames, they're merely gateways. The smaller ones are like looking through __windows__, but this...this is the only one that I can return through. I have been imprisoned here for centuries, halted in time like the rest of this house because of the magic I had afflicted upon us all._"

Hermione offered the woman a cold glare, clearly displeased at the information she'd been withholding and still angry over the way she'd told Draco about her folded her arms sternly before the picture, "How did this happen? How are you alive? You said you would answer the questions I had left after looking into the pool, and you've just raised a HELL of a lot more."

Bellerose straightened, fingering the pendant at her breast in a nervous gesture. There was no use postponing it any longer...she nodded and began her explanation,_ "__Rhydderch and I made a bond of blood before we took our __wedding __vows. It was the only way I knew of to make sure he couldn't kill me after we wed. With the bond, we could not be far from each other for long without suffering from fatigue and __in __worse cases, __pain __and delirium. __W__e could not seriously harm one another without the other experiencing it as well. Most of all...one of us could not die without the other following. __O__ur vows would have been satisfied if one of us had perished __so he would have been free of the beast and I would be dead__; __he would have had __his__ solution and gotten rid of __the curse and then__ me without a second thought. __Taking t__he blood oath would not allow us __exist__ without the other __and he was not ready to die __so wouldn't dare kill me – I refused to take our marital vows without it__._"

"That's a lot of effort to go through for someone that obviously hated your guts." This came from Draco across the room as he searched through the drawers of the simple reading desk still on his search for a more mundane way to cut up Belle's painting since he didn't have his wand. He even peeked around the heavy bookshelf looking for anything sharp and forgotten.

Bellerose sneered down at the young Malfoy – her teeth didn't need to be pointed like his for him to understand the malicious expression. "_I admit that I was obsessed with him. With the idea of being with him. But the reality tends to mature your perspective __and much to my frustration, I have had centuries to mull over it._"

She began pacing the confines of the portrait, one hand clasped tightly around her necklace and the other waving about as more words tumbled from her lips in a rush. Years of her history, her secrets, spilling forth to reveal to them things she'd kept to herself for nearly 300 years with the other witch and wizard now providing her with their undivided attention when she resumed her speech.

"_After Ellisandra had the child, __Rhydderch__ punished my son and I and denounced me as his wife, but in doing so __the monster returned – __with__ a vengeance.__ The beast __he__ had become after he __denied our vows__ was __different than what you know," _she nodded at the blonde, "_Abelard and I fled to take refuge here. We eventually found how we could lift the curse on the family...when he found out __he was so distraught. The thought of losing his wife and his mother, __especially so close together." _Belle shook her head, frowning deeply but continued, "_...it had to be done; __but__ he wanted revenge. We lured Rhydderch here, __to the dungeons __past__ that door__. Abel was unable to kill him...he was too quick, too strong, and still not ready to die. The beast that was my husband fatally wounded my son and made to run. I tried everything I could to stop him but the magic was weak against the dark__ness fused to him then__. I panicked and used the only thing I could think of and froze him in stone with a spell just as dark as the one that took his humanity..."_

The woman stopped her pacing, facing the two with arms outstretched in a plea of understanding, an expression of anguish on her face as she recalled the memories vividly. "_I should have killed myself then. I should have ended it there, but I didn't THINK. I tried to destroy the stone but it was all the same...I had given him an even __stronger__ set of armor. I could not lift the spell, I could not kill him, and now I couldn't even rid the world of myself __to end this blasted curse__ because his stone form wouldn't let ME die either. __I __researched for days – weeks! All trying to find a way to meet our end. I __trie__d one final spell I'd found in one of my tomes__ but __the__ dark magic I used to begin this all was __too much, it was__ blind in its punishing fury and unleashed itself on this house...on me. I thought to sacrifice myself and save my children any more pain but instead I became imprisoned in these paintings where I have been rendered useless.__"_

Hermione changed her focus to the door Belle indicated earlier, her voice low and firm edged with a hint of anger, "And he's been here all this time?"

Belle wrung her hands together, biting at the edge of her lip in a way that reminded Draco very much of Hermione.

"_He is entombed in __the __stone shell, __still __alive, and likely _**_extremely_**_ angry just beyond that door. His statue is kept in an alcove on the opposite wall of the entryway behind heavy bars." _Excitement wriggled its way into her voice, "W_ith you two here...we can end this once and for all! __You __can__ make us flesh again and destroy us both. __Surely you know a way or can find one! T__hen will you be free __of my curse.__"_

Hermione shot Bellerose a glare but Draco spoke before she could, voicing some of her own opinions on the matter, "That sounds awfully optimistic." The wizard did walk to the barred door then, peering through the window as best he could. "And extremely _convenient._" He couldn't make out much beyond the narrow beams of light trickling in from the small openings on the ceiling but he thought he could see a stone hallway that looked as though it opened into a larger room with chunks of stone and other debris littering the path back. The longer the hallway stretched, the darker it became and he had a feeling it was not just for lack of windows or torches.

"_Well I hardly think it is particularly 'convenient' considering __I__ am one of the ones that has to die,_" the bitterness was more than evident in her tone.

Draco snorted and made his way to the large bookshelf he'd spotted earlier and projected his voice over his shoulder. "We're not going back there. I'll tell you what we _are _going to do though."

"_Oh?_" Belle grimaced, one of her eyes twitched subtly and she watched the blonde man's form stalking around her basement.

"Granger come over here," Draco waved her over and the witch padded to him quietly chancing a quick sideways glance to the painting before she joined him. Once there, her eyes immediately locked onto the spines of the ancient texts in front of her with a thinly veiled hunger to touch and explore them that made him smirk. He pointed to the tomes in front of him and with the way he angled his head and projected his voice, it was clear he was speaking with the woman in the painting once again. "You want me to trust you? I'll consider it after we have a look through these ourselves. You said you and your son researched and researched how to break this spell? We'll do our own search through these archives and see what they say. If you're not lying then everything should be here, shouldn't it? Maybe then we'll talk about trust. How about that?"

Bellerose looked at the man who now had his arms folded across his chest and was looking at her with a snotty smirk that she'd come to be quite familiar with through her own dealings with her Malfoy. She forced a wry smile that didn't meet her eyes and opened her arms in a way that indicated her surroundings, "_Well there is not really anything I could do to stop you, is there?_"

The woman watched as the pair raided her bookshelf, peering at titles and picking tomes and journals from their spots if they seemed even remotely interesting to them. It took several minutes for them to finish but they finally seemed satisfied when both of their arms were full of the old worn texts. Draco moved around her bottled ingredients until he found a small canister of Floo powder for the fireplace upstairs and wiggled it at her with a devilish grin, quite pleased with himself. He and Hermione made to leave and Belle spoke just as they were making their way up the staircase.

"_Hermione...I am sorry-_"

"Don't." The girl held up a hand as best she could with her arm full of books. "I really don't want to talk about it but you had no right telling him."

"_Hermione-_"

"I said **_don't_**. You don't just get to apologize like that makes it all okay!" Hermione glared at the portrait and lashed out. "We _may_ be back after going through these but in the meantime, maybe you have a few more things to think about while you're trapped in there." With that she turned with a pointed toss of her hair and tromped up the steps, pushing past Draco who offered the woman one last infuriating shit-eating grin before he followed.

Bellerose looked after the couple with narrowed eyes, not bothering to follow them upstairs this time. She bounced her pendant in the curve of her hand a few times to test its weight, a small smirk finding its way upon her face at what she found there. Enclosing the rose in her grip a soft light peeked out from between her fingers and she placed her other palm against the barrier of the painting causing a series of ripples across her image though the canvas didn't bulge like before. Belle removed her hand from the barrier and hummed to herself in a pleased fashion.

Upstairs, Hermione helped Draco balance his load of books, being much more experienced than he at juggling so many. "No, no, take this and stack it here with this one. No, Malfoy, dammit, just let me!" She huffed in exasperation and yanked all of the books from his grip, expertly balancing them with her own.

The blonde looked at her shaking his head and went back to Abelard's wardrobe to retrieve a heavy cloak he'd seen earlier. "Now that's the Granger that I'm used to," he mumbled as he tossed the cloak onto the bedspread and yanked the flat sheet from its spot to begin folding it down to a smaller square.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Finished with his folding and took several of the texts from her and arranged them in the middle of the neatly folded square before bringing up the corners and tying them together to make a makeshift satchel. "There. That should be a bit easier."

Hermione smirked at how proud he was of his little invention, "How positively Muggle of you."

Draco frowned at her quip though secretly relieved to hear her snark again. "Come on," he growled, "She said there was no access to my Manor but maybe we can get to The Ministry or something."

"Like this?" She motioned to the clothing they were wearing with her one free arm, "That won't raise an ounce of suspicion? Especially when I'm supposed to be on leave?"

"Like they'd question you coming into work on your day off?"

Her face scrunched in that way it did when she was most irritated at his commentary, "Fair enough, but with you? It might raise a few questions if anyone saw us together dressed like this and put the pieces together."

He wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and felt that pang of possessiveness in him again – maybe it was the beast, maybe it was just him, he wasn't sure anymore. Draco wanted to say that she'd better get used to it considering she would eventually have a rounded belly and following that most likely a tiny baby with some very signature white-blonde hair, but he did well to contain himself. That was an argument best left for later considering neither of them seemed to know what they were going to do about it; step one was to get the hell out of here.

"Fine then. You go first. I'll give you a few minutes then follow shortly after, that way nobody has to see us together."

Hermione completely missed his sour tone and nodded, "Yes. That should work."

Draco was able to move one of the blue burning logs from Bellerose's fireplace into Abelard's since apparently hers wasn't connected to the network. The way the fire clung and heated the object but didn't burn him was still strange and but he wasn't about to question it too much since it seemed to be the only way they were getting home. He took a handful of the silver powder procured from Belle's hidden room and gave Hermione a single nod. "Here goes." He tossed the powder into the flames and called out for The Ministry, relieved when the flames flared and turned green. With a light hand on the witch's back he nudged her forward, "Head to the Manor, I'll give you five minutes and then follow."

Hermione breathed out a soft sigh, nodded, and stepped through the fire with her arms wrapped around her small bundle of books. With a roar and flare from the fire she felt herself pulled through the Floo network, the sensation of being dragged through undefined space with disembodied fireplaces flying past her head was something she didn't think she'd ever really get used to even after this many years. She found her footing easily enough when it spit her out into the Atrium and the witch was shocked to find that there was no one coming or going. Well, that would certainly make things much easier but why..

"Hermione?"

Her eyes widened, she hadn't heard that voice in what felt like months – maybe it _had_ been months. She turned her head and saw a most familiar bespectacled face looking at her curiously though not unkindly. "Harry?"

His green eyes brightened and he smiled widely at his best friend, Auror robes billowing behind him as he made his way over and enveloped her into a tight, near bone crushing embrace that lifted her off her feet. The sudden hug caught her by surprise and she choked out the breath she'd had before he squeezed it from her. Harry immediately set her down, smoothing his hands down her arms and flushing a bit, "Sorry, it's just so good to see you!"

Hermione recovered from the appearance of her friend, unsure how to feel at seeing him now. It's not like they didn't work in the same building, he could have visited her at any point in time – Merlin knew that McLaggen seemed to have no problems coming to visit her all the way from the Auror's department. "I'm here every day, Harry.." she frowned.

This made his cheeks redden even more and he dropped his hands from her, one coming to the back of his head to scratch at it sheepishly. "I know...I'm really sorry. I just wasn't sure how to...deal with everything between the two of you. Y'know, afterward."

"How YOU had to deal with everything?" Her expression darkened.

Harry held up his hands non threateningly, backpedaling at the witch's growing ire, "No, what I mean is just that I had to see Ron more-" He sputtered when he saw her eyes narrow and waved his hands desperately, shaking his head, "No, you know what? Never mind all that. I was a shitty friend. I'm sorry Hermione. Can you please forgive me?"

Hermione scowled, her decade long friend looking at her with big green puppy dog eyes that she knew worked on his wife when he got into trouble. The idea that he was trying them on her made her snort, "Put that nonsense away Harry Potter." She freed one of her hands long enough to jab at his chest with a finger. "I'm still mad at you!" When his face fell she rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, "Of course I forgive you, you nitwit. But DON'T you dare think you can get away with ignoring me like that again or so help me I'll pull a page from Ginny's book of punishments!" Hermione took great satisfaction in the way he blanched at the very real threat. "Now...can you tell me where everyone is?"

Harry gave her a concerned once over, "What do you mean? Are you alright?"

She looked at him like he was daft and brushed aside the large hand that came up to feel her forehead, "I'm fine! Where is everyone? It can't even be five yet, was there some kind of meeting I missed?"

He blinked down at her, "Hermione it's ten o'clock_." _When she still looked puzzled he elaborated, "_At night._ I was about to head home after working late on some paperwork. Are you sure you're alright?"

Hermione was _positive_ it was still light out when they left. She very plainly recalled seeing the sunlight streaming in from one of the windows across the hall when Draco went to retrieve one of the burning logs. "Ten o'clock?! How-" Her eyes grew wide as saucers as the realization struck.

..._I have been imprisoned here for centuries, halted in time like the rest of this house..._

The West Wing wasn't the only thing locked in time from the backlash of Belle's magic, the very environment when it all happened were as well. She was amazed at the reality of how much time she and Draco spent speaking with Bellerose.

"Draco!" She blurted in a second shocking realization that he was due to tumble through a fireplace behind her at any moment.

"What?"

"Nothing!" Hermione covered quickly and gave Harry half a hug and tried to coax him around to the outbound gateways. "Well it was nice seeing you again Harry! Let's have lunch soon okay? You should really be getting home to your family now!"

"Wha-" Harry tried to push the witch's single hand away from his back as she shoved him as hard as she could towards the departure line but she replaced it just as quickly each time he managed to wriggle free. "Herm—Hermione stop. Stop it!" He dug his heels in trying to turn and see her very insistent figure that kept pushing him as much as she was able. "Hey, stop! What's gotten into you?"

Before she could even try to reply a brilliant flash of green came from behind her, she heard a couple soft steps before an astonished, "Potter?"

"Malfoy?" Came Harry's equally confused reply.

Hermione had just enough time to turn and catch Draco's gaze before he sank to his knees, a loud and strangled cry of pain ripping from his throat. The sheet wrapped tomes tumbled away from his now rapidly changing form. She watched in horror as the curse took hold of him the quickest she'd ever seen, the magic behaving as though it were some magnificent pressure built up behind a cap that just released. Draco couldn't stop the noises of anguish escaping him, transforming into snarls and growls more befitting his growing chest that strained and tore the baggy tunic. The already snug slacks he'd borrowed ripped noisily, his thighs and calves thickening and morphing into canine like hind legs. Deadly claws erupted from his hands and feet digging into the tiled floor.

"What the BLOODY hell?!" Harry had his wand out and pointed toward the writhing creature that moments ago he was sure was Draco Malfoy.

In the midst of the pain and transformation, Draco's head flicked up and he bared lengthening fangs at his old school rival, the threat made more intimidating by the loud cracks coming from his face as it stretched and reformed into something much more bestial.

"_Stupefy!_"

"Harry no!" Hermione dropped her books reaching toward Draco in a panic.

The streak of red light zipped right for the monstrous form but found only a formidable shield in place. Harry's eyes widened even more just before his own spell rebounded back to hit him square in the chest and knock him into one of the arch supports behind them hard enough to thoroughly daze him. Hermione had little time to see to her friend because a large shadow now stretched over her and when she turned to look at its owner she saw a beastly Draco looking at her with eyes that held little to none of their human intelligence.

"Oh...bollocks.." She froze in that same position, hands still outstretched from where she'd been able to shield her unfortunate lover.

The beast's lips were curled back, exposing a deadly mouth of fangs in a show of warning. Silver eyes narrowed to slits, tracking every minute movement the witch made with a predatory stillness. She could hear her blood, her heartbeat, rushing in her ears and tried to keep from hyperventilating. Hermione's eyes – only her eyes – darted to the departures and to Harry who was just barely shaking himself to a better state of consciousness drawing the beast's attention.

"Harry," she whispered, wincing when the beast's ears flicked forward and a low growl rumbled free of his chest. She grit her teeth, speaking as non-threateningly as possible, "When I say 'go', take the tomes and Floo to my flat. I'll meet you there."

"What?"

Draco snarled, moving onto all fours and still managing to tower over the both of them with his broad frame. He loosed a louder and more immediate growl, eyes fixed once again on the petite witch as his weight shifted on the balls of his feet, clawed hands flexing in a way that looked as though he was ready to pounce.

"Harry Potter if you say 'what' one more time, I'll cut your tongue from your head!" She hissed. The noise provoked Draco but she was ready for his hulking figure as it leaped forward, claws spread wide with very wicked intent. "_DEPULSO!_"

A surprised yelp tore from the beastly creature and he went flying backwards into the frame of one of the arrival gates, hitting it hard enough to cause several of the stones to break free and crumble around it. Hermione's eyes remained huge, concerned for Draco for only long enough to realize that the beast was absolutely fine and was now turning to her again with very, _very_, angry eyes.

"**_SHIT_**! GO Harry! NOW!"

The wizard, still somewhat dazed, operated on pure instinct. Months of being on the run with only Hermione as his companion, trusting her implicitly because they were friends – best friends – because she always knew better, because she was the most capable witch he'd ever live to know, _because their lives depended on it, _the tone in her voice rang of that same urgency and all he could do was follow. Harry scrambled to gather the satchel and the loose tomes and ran to a departure gate calling the location for her flat. He didn't even get to look back until he was caught in the flames and with the way the large creature was extracting itself from the rubble, he wished he hadn't. "Hermione!" Hermione turned her head and offered him a reassuring smile just before he was sucked away through the network.

Sounds of falling stone snapped her eyes forward to Draco who'd found his footing and stretched out to his full height. Black lips peeled back in a sneer that was very reminiscent of the man she'd come to know and...tolerate. Her brows set into a stern line. "Draco." An angry growl. She tried again, channeling her bossiest of tones, "**_Draco Malfoy_**! You will stop your growling at me or I'll never let you touch me OR our child."

Those russet colored ears pricked forward, his sneer lessening though he still made to approach her again on all fours, his shoulders shifting smoothly, the fur there sticking up on end.

A fine eyebrow arched at the slight change in his body language. Hermione peeked to her side and lined herself up with one of the fireplaces, growing hopeful when Draco changed his pathing as well. She stopped in front of the gate as did he, only several paces – or one jump – away. "Did you or did you _not_ hear what I just said?" The witch spat harshly and was rewarded with silence, the growls stopped suddenly and the beast looked at her with interest.

Pleased at the response, Hermione was about to try to reason with him further when a faint buzzing hummed to life in her ears. She faltered, shutting her eyes and giving her head a quick shake as if to dislodge a bug from them but it only intensified, the rose around her neck growing warm; that warmth spread over her skin, through her body and made a familiar ache start in her thighs. She gasped and when she opened them again, Draco was looking at her..._intrigued_. Hermione was familiar with this look. She saw his nostrils flare and when his tongue darted out to wet his lips she shivered, remembering the things he'd done with it the last time they were alone together and she knew he was no longer thinking about devouring her...not in an unpleasant way, at least.

Draco was closer than she remembered him being before, her heart quickened with each padded step he took. She swallowed thickly, seeing his human eyes in her mind staring at her hungrily just as they did before the chase that led them to Belle's manor in the first place. The excitement she'd felt with him on her heels, running through the halls, the anticipation of what would come when he caught her, what they never got to finish – it flooded through her limbs, fueled by a heat that emanated from something at her collarbone that she was now too fuzzy headed to recognize. Finally, when Draco had closed in enough to where she felt his hot breath on her face, she kept his gaze, wholly unafraid, and spoke in a voice that sounded so far away.

"_Malfoy Manor_."

She turned and jumped through the swollen green fire, hearing only the rush of the flames and feeling only the tight grip of a heavy hand clamped about her ankle.


	25. Chapter 24 - The Yearning

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**A/N: **So quite a bit of editing done and the chapter has been reuploaded. I'm sure I still missed things but apparently I uploaded my draft chapter instead of the final one earlier. Sorry about that. Hopefully things make a little more sense.

* * *

**__****Thursday, February 16, 2001 – ****__****10:00PM**

Hermione fell forward as she appeared in the fireplace of the Manor, Draco's huge mitt still wrapped tightly around her leg and his large form following closely after. She managed to wiggle free from his grip thanks to a swift kick to his shoulder and the cloak she unfastened and thrust at him. Hermione felt energized; she could see the layout of the Manor in her head as though she'd lived there her entire life and scrabbled to her feet. The same heat that warmed her limbs propelled her forward, taking command of her feet and moving her at a run to her destination. The only indications she had that Draco followed were his snarling growls raising goosebumps on her arms and the scraping and scratching of his nails along the tiles.

She stopped finally in front of a set of doors she didn't recognize taking gulping breaths. Hermione shoved open the doors, met mostly with darkness save for the pale light of the moon shining in through a tall multi-paned window. A bedroom, she chuckled at the appropriateness of her discovery. She stepped into the dark, hand trailing along the wall and small furniture to make her way further in.

Draco loped down the hall, slowing to a halt in front of the partially open doors that led to his room. He could smell her nearby and knew she was inside. Hiding perhaps? He snuffled at the air as silently as he could, tracking the woman, _his mate_, ready to find her and take her again so she knew who she belonged to – no, that's not how it was with Hermione. _Hermione_? Tha was her name...he remembered now...though it was hard for him to focus still with the scent of her from the cloak still stuck in his nose.

On alert he crept inside, ears twitching trying to pick up evidence of her movement, her breathing. "Her...mione?" Her name came out as a low rasp of noise from his changed vocal chords.

Like a flash in the dark, the small woman leaped from her hiding spot in one of the room's corners, somehow quiet enough that he'd never seen her coming. Hermione shoved him against the nearest wall with a strength that surprised him and she immediately began tearing at what clothes still remained tattered and hanging off his frame. She snarled, one to rival his own and her hands searched for what she needed, a throaty moan escaping her when she found him hard and ready for her. Draco groaned at the feel of her hand wrapped around his length and hefted her into his arms, switching their positions and slamming her against the wall to make quick work of the borrowed shift and those tantalizing little shorts and top she wore underneath. His mind was coming back to him now and he wasn't completely sure where her playful dominance had sparked from but when he swept a hand to her center and found her already wet enough to slick his fingers he wasted no more time in pondering the question and entered her with one firm thrust that had her crying out his name at once.

Her small hands grabbed and tugged and clawed at his arms, shoulders, back, head, anywhere she could reach with a raw, primal need to have him close...closer..._as close as he could be_. She gripped his head and kissed him feverishly, butting her teeth against his and cutting her lip on their sharp edges only seeming to become more wild and driven by the sting of the cut.

Hermione tightened her legs around his waist and pushed away from the wall with one arm, forcing Draco off balance to stumble with her onto the large mattress. His fierce lioness growled down at him when he tried to move over top of her shoving him back to the bed and biting hard into the meat of his neck and all he found he could do was groan and rumble in pleasure, tingling sensations spreading through his shoulder from the point where her blunt teeth nipped at his thick hide. When she began moving over him, controlling the pace with a torturous rolling of her hips he nearly lost it there and then. His eyes opened to slits and with the aid of the moonbeams shining down on the supple perfection that was her heavenly body he could see the pure bliss decorating her face.

This is where she belonged: in his arms, atop him, bowed in ecstasy as she rode him with wild abandon. Her fragrance clouded his head, her heat engulfed him but he still couldn't get enough. Every fiber of his being as beast and man craved her and it was never more obvious to him than when he saw her in the height of passion, he realized. He desired their child, barely more than a thought in her belly now, and he wanted more. He wanted this woman, all of her brilliance, her bossiness, her fire, her anger. He wanted her happiness, her smiles, her laughter. He wanted to be the one to protect her and chase away her tears. Draco wanted her and as far as he was concerned, she was his. The bossy buck-toothed know-it-all. The insufferable teacher's pet. The brightest witch of her age. All of what she was, was his.

He supported her with a large hand at the curve of her back as she rocked over him, her hand dipping between them to enhance the pleasure of just having him inside her. Draco ran his claws down over her ass and back up, digging them in enough to barely break the skin in a way they'd discovered aroused her to no end. Her eyes were glazed, cheeks rosy, and those plump pink lips were glistening and parted by quickening mewls with a sheen of sweat dotting her forehead.

_She was so fucking beauti__ful._

Draco tugged away the hand toying with her bud and replaced it with his own, taking her wet fingers and drawing them into his mouth to savor with a contented growl. The sensations of his rough padded fingertips and tongue caught her unawares and her breath hitched suddenly, hips grinding erratically against his gentle swirling touch. She breathed his name desperately, bracing her free hand back on one of his thighs struggling to keep her eyes open to hold his gaze, the intensity of his desire there building her climax quickly. Draco felt the muscles on the insides of her thighs tensing and twitching, her grip around him tightening as her breathing turned to sharp gasps and whimpers of nonsense. He growled lustily knowing she was close and desiring nothing else at that moment than to watch her come apart above him, his ethereal angel falling from her heaven to join him in his meager existence where he could worship her properly and make her fall worth the sacrifice.

"Drac—ah—AHH!" Hermione meant to warn him of her orgasm but it overtook her in a rush of warmth and she only managed a loud, throaty cry, back arching sharply her hips grinding raggedly against him.

The steady rhythm of his fingers on her clit were upset by her sporadic movements but the vice-like grip of her silky walls roughly stroking him in that most intimate way did him in and he grasped frantically for a handhold on her rear to more firmly grind their hips together. He responded with his own rasping rumbles of drivel tumbling from his lips praising how sweet she felt clenching around him, how perfect and hot her tight little quim was _just for him_, how beautiful she looked riding him, and about half a dozen other filthy endearments that had her purring with delight as he came inside her, coating her walls with his seed and sending waves of pure womanly satisfaction through every inch of her body.

Draco jerked her down to him, devouring her mouth in a ravenous kiss before she even knew what was happening. He tangled one hand in her curls while the other coaxed her thighs open further to moveher sluggishly along his shaft again. His head fell back to the mattress, eyes rolling back at the too sensitive jolts of pleasure of her still tugging and spasming around his softening cock and her perked nipples grazing over his chest. Hermione hummed contentedly as she released his lips, nuzzling her nose to his and offering him a lazy lopsided smile, her eyes warm and a glittery golden hue even in the sparse moonlight.

"FUCKING MERLIN'S HAIRY BOLLOCKS!"

Those golden eyes grew huge as saucers at the voice coming from the doorway, swiftly draining of the otherworldly color. Angry silver ones snapped to the open doors and Draco was moving with murderous intent but was stopped short with a shuddering groan when he pulled himself from Hermione's heat. She groaned but it turned into an indignant growl as Hermione scrambled for the nearest throwable object settling on one of the bed's huge fluffy pillows and launched it at the green eyed wizard.

"HARRY CLOSE THE DOOR!"

The pillow fell woefully short of the doorway but Harry was too busy sputtering in shock and clawing at his eyes to notice, "Fucking HELL!"

Hermione threw another of the plush pillows, this one finding its target and knocking her friend a few steps backwards out of the room and she screamed at him again, "CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR YOU IDIOT!"

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

The trio stood awkwardly in the main sitting room. Harry had retreated there when Hermione demanded he allow them a moment to get dressed and they would talk. Hermione just finished explaining an abridged version to Harry of how exactly she got involved in the curious case of Draco's family curse and what progress they've made in lifting it as well as what brought them there as of today. Of course most, if not all, of the intimate details were conveniently glossed over in her recounting of the days, as was their visit to the mystical LeClair manor. Judging by the way Harry sat on the edge of one of the posh looking armchairs, still scrubbing at his eyes behind his glasses and mumbling about wishing he'd stepped on them before he walked in on what he did, she didn't really feel like he caught most of the details she DID leave in, though.

Draco stood by the fireplace, one arm draped over the mantle and minimally dressed in a pair of slacks he had to have Hermione's assistance getting into and transfiguring to fit him with his recovered wand. He was shockingly clearheaded after their romp and aside from having to stop, he felt good, coherent, and much more like his old pre-curse self than he had in weeks.

Hermione paced in a small path between the two men dressed in a borrowed pair of Draco's sleep pants – also transfigured to fit – and one of his old Quidditch sweaters that was comically large on her small curvy frame that did well to protect her upper half from the night's chill. "Oh stop your complaining!" She snapped at Harry, face flushed red still in embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position.

The wizard groaned, massaging his temples as though that alone would make the mental pictures disappear. "Sorry 'Mione but...it's just you...and Malfoy..."

A brown eyebrow shot up in irritation and she folded her arms over her chest, one foot tapping impatiently. "Just _what_? Had sex? Yes as a matter of fact, we did. The last that I checked, I was an adult and could engage in such activities at my leisure!" She pointed an accusatory finger at her friend, "Did I ever throw a fit when I walked in on you and Ginny? In the KITCHEN of all places?"

Draco found a way to make his smirk just as obnoxious as a beast as he did a man. "You and the lady Weasel – oh I'm sorry, the Potterette, getting nasty on the counters? Never would have thought you had it in you, Potter."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" The two-thirds of The Golden Trio scolded at once.

Draco's smirk didn't budge but he mentally noted another room to try when he had his witch alone and focused his attention anywhere but her distracting figure in _his_ clothing and _his_ house colors lest he jump her again in front of The-Boy-Who-Has-The-Worst-Bloody-Timing-Ever and fuck the care right out of her.

Harry held up his hands in surrender, doing his best to mollify the angry witch, "It's a bit of a _shock_ don't you think?" He glanced to the beast looming over the fireplace; the beast that was also apparently Draco Malfoy; the beast that was making no effort to hide the fact that he was glaring quite viciously at him. Harry suspected where Hermione was angry they were caught, Draco was just angry that he was interrupted – he would be right on both accounts. If it were anyone else, he might sympathize with that. "Also, he's...he's...well he's-"

"Also in the same room as your blubbering mouth, Potter," Draco growled, his ears flicking back along his head and he bared his teeth menacingly, pushing away from the mantel and taking a few threatening steps forward near Hermione's pathing. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to stare? Oh, that's right, she _couldn't._"

"_DRACO!_"

Harry was on his feet in a second, the tentative truce that had been understood at the beginning of their 'talk' completely forgotten as he gripped his wand tightly with just as threatening of a glare. "Watch your mouth, Malfoy," the wizard ground out, "Or I'll give send you on a one way trip to St. Mungo's so you can visit _your_ mother in the mental ward!"

"_HARRY!_"

Draco snarled angrily, fur ruffled and standing on end, the wizard and the beast both baring their teeth and ready to attack one another. Before the situation could escalate much further, Hermione came between the both of them a hand firmly planted on either of their chests.

"The both of you, _**BACK OFF**_!" Neither listened at first, content to try and butt heads like animals that neither of them were or resembled and she shoved at them both – HARD. Harry grunted and stumbled back onto the cushions of the couch, Draco just loosed a low warning growl and the two men continued glaring at each other.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the weighing of the bollocks happening in front of her and removed herself from the both of them tossing her hands into the air. "Honestly, it's as though we never left Hogwarts!" This just earned an irritated snarl from her lover and he finally broke contact with Harry to stalk back to his spot by the fire. Once she was sure neither of her stupid men were going to kill and or devour one another, she turned her attention back to Harry. "What were you doing prowling the halls here, anyway?"

This earned her a sour look, "I was looking for you. I Flooed to your flat like you'd said to do and when you didn't show up soon after, I came here. I heard you screaming from across the house. I thought you might have been in trouble or something, I never expected to..." Harry made a face, turning red again and shaking his head instead of finishing the thought.

Draco smarted off, "That's what happens when you please a woman properly, _Potter_. I'm not surprised you're not familiar with the sound."

"Well considering you looked like you were going to eat her last I saw, **_Malfoy_**, I had to be sure," he retorted.

That seemed to shut Draco up for the time being, remembering the haze that overtook him when the time locked spell of the LeClair Manor had faded and his curse took hold with a vengeance. He didn't recall much between entering The Ministry and tracking Hermione to his room and it hadn't really concerned him until Potter pointed it out – he could have killed her.

Oblivious to Draco's dismay at the moment, Hermione's blush returned with fervor at the men's exchange, realizing that she'd effectively ditched her friend to have sex. She glanced at Draco who was too busy sulking to notice and was willing her skin to return to its normal shade any time now. "How did you know I'd be here?"

Harry leaned back in his chair, offering an incredulous expression at the question, "I AM an Auror...it's kind of my job to put the pieces together." He retrieved a folded piece of paper from the inside of his robes and showed it to her; one of the several letters the witch and other wizard had exchanged over the past several days with the Malfoy wax seal bright and broken and clear as day still sitting on the outermost layer of it. "There were a few of these laying around your living room along with a leather satchel that had his crest embossed into it."

Hermione blinked.

His green eyes darted to the large form a few paces behind her, "Not to mention I saw Malfoy turn into...that."

Draco snarled but forced himself to quiet down at the death glare the woman gave him, fully trying to be on his best behavior so that he could have his way with his witch again after they were done with this interrogation; maybe make up for his earlier lapse in control.

"I'm sorry Harry. I meant to only be a few minutes but...things just got a little..carried away?"

Harry looked green in the face when he thought again about what he'd seen and shook his head swiftly, flailing his hands a little to indicate she shouldn't continue. "Don't mention it...really, _please_ don't mention it."

She nodded and pressed on, "I have to say, you're taking everything rather...well."

Draco snorted at the allusion to their situation.

"Well..." he looked between his best friend and old rival letting out a long sigh through his nose, "I suppose I'm not really surprised. I knew something was happening that involved the two of you...I had no idea it was _this_ but Ron and I both were tipped off by what happened at the party."

Hermione's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach, complexion doing a 180 and now paling at both the mention of her ex's name and the reference to the mess she and Draco left at the Valentine's Day event. "What do you mean?"

Harry folded his arms and gave her a look that more commonly belonged in her repertoire, "Well apparently the two of you left a very confused McLaggen sputtering about seeing the two of you together there and the _Confundus_ charm we detected on him was powerful enough that I really could only think of one person alive and that was in the immediate vicinity that night that would've been able to pull it off." She looked faint and even Draco noticed, coming to her aid to steady her on her feet. Her hands gripped at his arms and Harry found the whole exchange rather unsettling in a way.

Once sure she wasn't going to pass out, Hermione turned a panicked look to the wizard, "He _SAW_ Harry! He would have exposed Malfoy to everyone! If the press or anyone else got word of Malfoy's case...I don't even KNOW what would happen. You know he's had enough of a time reintegrating into society as it is! It was for his protection and safety!" It was mostly true – she did it to protect him...and perhaps her as well.

Harry held up his hands again indicating for her to calm down, not missing Draco's dark look at the clinical way she spoke about him. "Relax Hermione, nobody is going to find out. Only Ron and I were given clearance to evaluate McLaggen and Kingsley let us know in few enough words that we were not to release this information, not just to the press but records as well. He didn't tell us exactly what was up, only the bare minimum of what we needed to know. We knew you and Malfoy were involved with something, that it was cleared through Kingsley, and not to file any reports on what we found yet. So for all intents and purposes you two are off the hook with The Ministry." He gave the both of them a pointed look, "For now anyway. My professional recommendation is that you both steer clear of as much exposure as possible so I hope you haven't got any other grand plans of public appearances any time soon."

The large beast huffed but narrowed his eyes as an important thought just popped into his head.

Harry frowned. "What?"

"There is...something."

Hermione joined in on the other man's grimacing, "It's not another evening engagement is it?" At the look on his face her own frown deepened, "Can you not cancel it?"

Draco snapped at her and growled lowly, "No. I'm not canceling, it's **important**."

She was taken aback by his tone but recovered quickly, covering her reaction with a disgruntled sniff. "Well don't expect me to help you with _this_ one then." Hermione harrumphed and pulled from his grip, folding her arms with a huff.

Clearing his throat to bring them back on track, Harry went on, "Do what you want, Malfoy, but I can't promise you that the outcome on The Ministry's end will be the same next time if something like this happens again. Especially if you don't have Hermione at your back on it."

Beast Draco snarled at Potter and glanced at the woman who was pointedly ignoring him now, "Then I suppose I'd better start planning now. _On my own._"

The fur of his back and shoulders prickled with irritation and Draco stalked from the room. Hermione watched him go masking the emotion that was trying to free itself at his angry retreat and huffed again, plopping down next to her friend.

The silence stretched between the pair awkwardly for several long moments, she alternating between glancing at him from beneath her eyelashes and looking to the sitting room's entryway as though a certain someone was going to reappear and he mostly just staring at his clasped hands watching his thumbs swirl patterns around each other.

"So...how is he?" She didn't have to say the name for Harry to know who she was referring to.

He shifted uncomfortably, nodded, "He's...good?"

Hermione blinked. "Was that an answer or a question?"

"A bit of both?" He said with that same inflection and shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know." A sigh. "He says he's fine, of course. He's gotten much better since the...'you know', and he's dating Lavender again," his face scrunched in distaste, "But he's still hurting 'Mione." She went on the defensive immediately, so used to it after all the reporters that hunted her down everywhere she went after the breakup but Harry stilled her with a gentle squeeze to one of her hands. "Hey, you don't have to explain or justify anything to me. I know I haven't been much of a friend this past year, but it's not because I'm taking sides – I'm NOT!" Turning more fully to her and taking both of her hands in his own, he rubbed his thumbs across the backs of her knuckles fondly and nudged her with an elbow until she would look at him. "You weren't happy. I saw it. Ginny saw it. Hell even bloody _LUNA_ noticed!"

Hermione chuckled and it did wonders for lifting a weight from her she never knew was present before that moment.

"I think he's the only one that didn't realize what was happening until it was too late," he concluded somberly. "Do I wish it HAD worked? Sure. I'll admit it. You two are my very best friends! I wouldn't BE here without either of you. But Hermione," Harry tugged at her hands and smiled that warm, earnest, carefree smile that he never did often enough that always found a way to lift her spirit just from looking at it, "You don't owe me ANY explanations."

She welcomed his next hug, curling into his side and finding solace in the affectionate way in which he rubbed at her sweater clad arm and placed a warm kiss to the top of her head. "Thanks for making me feel better." Hermione gave him a sidelong smirk, "I knew there was a reason I kept you alive all those years."

His laugh was sudden and loud and just what was needed to fill the otherwise eerie silence of the sitting room. Harry gave her another squeeze, arm wrapped snugly around her shoulders, and let out a heavy sigh. The seriousness of his next expression tamped down on what had been a growing jovial mood. "I guess it just...just-"

"Sucks?" Came her mumble.

"Yeah.."

They sat there again – the quiet in the room substantially more comfortable this time around and it was Harry who broke the silence this time.

"So. You and Malfoy?"

"_Harry_," Hermione's stern tone was meant to warn him but it was really more tired than anything else.

"Look, like I said, you don't owe me any explanations – but **_Malfoy_**?"

With a groan, she moved his arm from around her shoulders and scooted so she could see his face more easily. "We're not together, Harry."

The wizard raised a thick eyebrow, unconvinced. "As much as I hate to recall, you two looked pretty...together."

This conversation was _not_ one she felt like having. Not right now. Maybe not ever. The witch rubbed at her face in exasperation, "We're NOT. We don't even REALLY like each other. It's just...things are complicated..." Her hand went to rest over her belly of its own accord, gaze set somewhere far off in the distance as the inner workings of the complex mind of Hermione Granger hummed to life and started processing a myriad of pleasant and unpleasant thoughts alike.

If Harry noticed the action he wisely said nothing and just tugged her back into another hug. "You'll figure it out, you always do. And if you can't, I'll be here for you this time around. But I'll let you in on a secret..." He leaned in conspiratorially, eyes darting to and fro comically behind his dark rimmed glasses, "I'm absolute rubbish at figuring things out without you."

Hermione laughed, the sound an audible indication of the tension releasing from her body. Months of stress and worry and misery that had found subtle ways to build up and store themselves in every inch of her body just being forcefully expelled and replaced with mirth, familiarity, and a budding sense that things may be starting to right themselves now that it seemed the gap was bridged between them. She leaned further into his embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around his midsection, "I really missed you Harry."

"Me too, 'Mione. Me too."

Lurking – for that's what he was doing – by the doorway of the sitting room, Draco was privy to the tail end of their conversation. The sweet way Potter's arm snuggled his witch to him and, worse yet, the way she hugged him back was different than the way she ever touched him, there was something there that wasn't there with them and how they were now. He found himself craving it, whatever it was. While he was no fool and didn't suspect romantic undertones in their exchange of words and touches, his jealousy still spiked at the fondness they shared for one another – mutually and openly, not hidden behind barbs and a harsh demeanor out in the public eye.

That was all it took to cause his feet to start moving, swiftly crossing the room with a stealthy quietness attributed to his cursed form. Draco's loud, sudden, and angry growl behind the couple startled them apart, Hermione even sprang from her spot on the couch and was panting heavily from the surprise one hand clutched to her chest. "Did I interrupt something?"

The implication wasn't lost on her, shock aside, and her surprise turned into a glare at the drop of a hat. "_Yes_," she said stubbornly, somehow knowing that what she said next was going to piss him right off, "Harry and I were reminiscing and catching up about our old times together."

His ears twitched at her saucy answer, eyes all for the woman glaring up at him with absolutely zero fear in her face or her scent. "Well by all means...continue," he made a mocking gesture with a sweep of his arm, "But if that's what you're doing, you can get the fuck out and do it somewhere else."

Harry stood then, ready to come to Hermione's aid. It really had been a while if he thought she needed his help in dressing down Draco Malfoy.

"Oh is that _so_?" The witch's eyes were nothing but shining brown slits, the menacing aura that lit into the air just seconds ago more intimidating than one would expect from her demure figure. She hated jealousy in a man. Ron had always been insanely jealous of anyone he didn't know – and on some occasions, even Harry – and it drove her bonkers. Hermione had too many years already of dealing with that kind of nonsensical territorial and distrustful attitude so the sarcastic and venomous reply was nearly instantaneous. "What's the matter, Malfoy? What happened to you asking me to stay? Is that not what you want anymore?"

'_It's a trap Draco._' Somewhere far back in his human mind that knew more of the intricacies of how a woman's head worked and the years of evolution that allowed men to **correctly **deal with such a blatant set up, a voice was screaming at him. So caught up in the image of the two all close and cuddled up together, that of which was now probably burned into his retinas, he paid it absolutely no regard. If he had been paying attention, he would have even seen Potter's eyes go wide and flash him as discreet a look as possible to warn him away from saying anything stupid; it was a camaraderie and understanding that extended beyond the simple labels of good side-bad side, hero and villain, dark and light, and was purely bloke to bloke not wanting to see anyone's bollocks get hexed off by the swiftly building supreme anger of the very powerful little witch between them.

Draco straightened, instinctually trying to use his impressive mass to intimidate her. "I asked _you_, not Pothead." He didn't even spare a glance for the wizard in question and snarled, jealous temper getting the better of him. "If you both want to be all 'buddy buddy' you can kindly remove yourselves from my Manor."

The green eyed wizard groaned from his position near the couple – _idiot._

Hermione sneered, her eye twitched, and she readily rose to her own full height – which for the record managed to be adorable in comparison yet possibly more worrisome than Draco's bulk. "I see! Well, Harry and I certainly do have quite a bit of catching up to do I think, isn't that right Harry?"

"Uh...well I should really be getting home. Ginny may be worried-"

"You see, Draco?" She ignored his actual words. "We have _plenty_ of catching up to do elsewhere. _ALONE_."

His teeth were bared, lips pulled as far back off the pearly white fangs as they could get and his muscles twitched, wound tighter than a spring. The growl trickled out through his clenched jaw, vibrating the air nearby with its intensity. "Then you'd best get to it and LEAVE."

"Malfoy don't-"

"FINE!" Hermione snarled and whipped her head around to Harry, hair wild and bushy in her anger serving to make her look bigger like a porcupine extending its quills. "Come on Harry, we're leaving!

Their stares hadn't separated during the entire argument until that point and Draco loomed in the center of the area between the fireplace and sofa, watching her gather her friend, interlocking her fingers with his own and dragging him to the lowly burning fire. He couldn't pull his eyes away from their clasped hands and just as Hermione was about to throw the glittery powder into the flames he added, "And you don't have to worry about coming back! I'll figure this out on my own. I don't need your bloody help or fucking charity from the likes of you!"

The words were out before he could stop them and he knew the second that all his stupid jealous rage dissipated because it was the same time the hurt flashed across her face. It only lasted a few seconds, but those few seconds of her chocolate eyes growing wide, shaking, glossing over, and the tremble to her bottom lip were some of the longest seconds he'd experienced to date. He tried to take it back but where the other words were eager to slip from his lips, those became stuck in his throat and instead he just saw her steel her jaw, lift her nose into the air and nod once.

"Right then," her voice wavered despite her efforts otherwise, "I WON'T!" Hermione threw the powder into the fireplace, shouted the address to her flat and dragged Harry through along with her without another word and only the echo of her shaking voice was left behind.

Draco stared after her, his mind processing the fact that he'd just kicked her out of his house. He didn't want to kick her out of his house. Why did he kick her out of his house? What in the nine hells was he bloody thinking?! He wasn't, that's what! Seeing her with Potter always bothered him before and now...now it apparently bothered him in a whole different way. He snarled at his stupidity and made to Floo to her flat as well but when he spoke her location, nothing happened. Draco tried again only to be met with the same result.

"Merlin fucking DAMMIT!" Draco slammed his hands on the mantel in frustration. She'd closed the damn access to his Manor and was probably in the process of barring him from ever stepping foot into her flat again. He punched the wall before slumping to rest his head in his hands to lament his actions, "Damned fucking stupid GIT!"


	26. Chapter 25 - The Confession

**Disclaimer: **The characters herein and the Harry Potter universe are all property of J.K. Rowling. I claim no ownership over either of these things and make no profit from any of this, it's all just imagined for fun with no ill intent.

**Long A/N: **I just wanted to take a quick few minutes to thank everyone that continues to read and review.

Also to the Guest that provided me with what I would consider my first 'flame' for Chapter 25, if you're still reading, I appreciate all reviews, even bad ones. I do urge you to be more constructive in your criticism going forward, however. I should note for you and all readers that I only give a small amount of consideration to opinions by completely anonymous individuals that leave no indication of their names or do not have registered accounts, this is especially true for non-constructive negative criticism. Going forward, I would strongly recommend that you create an account to review under so that you can discuss in private and at length if needed why you dislike an author's work. I think if you're willing to post a negative opinion, you should also be willing to support and discuss it in an analytical way so that the author can improve upon their skills by appropriately citing the things that people take the most issue with. Simply saying that the chapter was 'moronically pointless' doesn't give any real insight as to what the exact issue is. Unless you just don't like the writing at all...in which case, why are you still reading? :)

I should also clarify for all readers, if there was any confusion, this is apparently going to be quite a long story. I never intended it to be that way but it's its own monster and there is quite a bit of plot to slog through, there are far too many cans of worms have been opened that need to be resolved to wrap it up tidily in another five or six installments. That being said, there is bound to be fluff, filler, and character development (hopefully...character development) that I'm trying to meter and have it make sense. If long stories aren't your thing, I strongly suggest that you take a look at any of the other authors on this site that have posted magnificently written short(er) stories. I have several of them favorited and you can always peruse with the search engine and filters as well.

Anyway! Let's all try not to take ourselves too seriously, myself included. At the end of the day, we're all reading M-Rated fanfiction about witches and wizards getting it on while trying to have some semblance of a plot and pretend it's not just about the sex, right? :D As always, I appreciate you all and please continue to read and review as you so choose!

-Slik

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**__****Thursday, February 16, 2001 – 11:30PM**

Harry sat on Hermione's couch with a steaming mug of hot cocoa cupped in his hands. He was currently watching her pace tracks into her carpet in front of him, ranting angrily about Draco while he did his best to pay attention to the stream of miffed curses and yelling as he fiddled idly with one of the thick tomes he had the task of transferring safely to her flat.

"Can you believe the nerve of that prat?!"

"I-"

"I mean honestly, who does he think he is?" The woman looked at him accusingly, "You men and your jealousy!"

He choked his last sip of cocoa, "Wha? But I'm not-"

"What, are we all CAVEMEN?! You don't OWN me! You can't dictate who I see and what I do!"

"But I didn't-"

"UGH!" Hermione threw her hands into the air as she'd done earlier in the evening and resumed her irate pacing. "It's so bloody barbaric!"

Harry watched her let loose all of the frustrations while going back to quietly sipping his beverage, allowing her to get it all out until she finally stopped her circling and was glaring down at him with her hands on her hips.

"Well? Don't you have anything to say?"

He took another long sip of the cocoa, garnering a wicked sense of satisfaction at making her wait after her 'men are pigs' tirade. "Yes, actually." Harry placed his cup aside and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. "Do you fancy him?"

Stunned, she sputtered, "Wh-no! No, of course not! It's just this bloody spell doing something to us both, we..tolerate each other at best. There is _no_ 'fancying' of any kind going on."

"Really?" The wizard found it endearing how naive she was being.

Harry pondered a thought, a multitude of options and scenarios rolling through his head causing a bit of a frown. Before he'd interrupted them, the two had looked very content and...happy? It could have been the post-coital endorphins, but he hadn't seen Hermione smiling like that in years. If it were just relegated to the man's bedroom, he could have let it go, but the distinct sign of that comfort had still been present in the sitting room, even between the pair's first argument and their last. Not to mention she was apparently very distraught over it all still – hence the ranting. She never got so passionate about anything unless it really bothered her and he gathered there was something there between those two that wasn't there before; he doubted it could solely be chalked up to the curse alone.

Harry had seen a disturbing amount of cases involving Amortentia and scandalous charms in the midst of several cases he'd worked on so far. The artificial needs and desires that it created were all hollow and manifested only on the surface level, never had he seen them dig into a person's real emotions and mannerisms like he was witnessing in his friend and based on all their lessons in school, he was pretty positive that such a thing couldn't be created by magic alone. He didn't remember her mentioning about why they were attracted to each other in the first place from her explanation...though to be fair, he _was_ a bit distracted and partially still considering _Obliviating_ his recollection of their coupling at the time.

Making a decision he leaned forward in his seat to engage her standing form more easily. For Hermione's sake, he prepared himself for the strangest task he'd never thought would befall him in a million years and one that went against everything he'd known up to this point in his adult life: being Draco Malfoy's wingman. "Let me ask a different question. Do you even _care_ about him?"

He'd taken her off guard. "Ah...well I suppose so."

"Alright. From what I saw tonight – excluding the part I never want to think of after this conversation...EVER AGAIN – I'd venture a guess he cares about you too." Harry held up his closed hand to begin counting off on his fingers the facts. "So we've established that you both tolerate each other," he wiggled his pinky at her, "And you both care about one another," his ring finger was added to the count. "Now for my observations: you both seem to enjoy being near one another, you were constantly looking for him when we were alone, and he seems to be extremely protective of you." The rest of his fingers popped up in succession until his hand was fully open and waved a little 'hello' to her.

Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed his hand down, "What's the POINT, Harry? Most of that is just the curse!"

"Is it?" Or is it just you brushing it off as such?" He sighed and pulled her down to sit next to him. "I'm not a fan of Malfoy, let's get that out in the open right off the bat. Most times I see him I want to punch him in his pointy face for things he's done or things I know he's just _liable_ to do, but despite all that, even my limited exposure to him today...I could see how he was looking at you."

She scoffed, "What? Like he wanted to shag me again?"

Harry's expression soured, "Well yeah, there was that. But there was something else." He rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably, not believing he was about to say this, "He 'likes' you Hermione. I don't think he meant to go off on you like that."

"Then he should learn to control his temper!" She bristled and folded her arms across her chest and hastily added, "And I **don't** 'like' him!" She parroted his emphasis on the word with the most irate air quotes she could muster, "He's an idiot! A prat! A lewd, spoiled, pompous, arrogant ferrety GIT!" Hermione growled, "Why are we even talking about this?"

Finally becoming frustrated with her stubbornness, he looked her squarely in the eyes with a different tactic, "Pansy."

"What?" The sneer tugged at her lip at the utterance of one of her least favorite people.

"Stay with me a moment," Harry held out one of his hands as though he were framing a scene, "Imagine now, after what you've been through with that lewd, spoiled, pompous, arrogant ferrety git, if tomorrow you saw Pansy on his arm." He watched the woman's eye twitch at the Slytherin's name.

"And? I'm not seeing your point. Malfoy can see whoever he wants, as I said, we're not together. Besides, I'm fairly positive she's not single anymore."

"No, no, I know. Just picture it a second – marital ties out of the picture. The two of them, curled up on the sofa in front of a fire like this one. He's got his arm wrapped tightly around her, rubbing hers and snuggling up together." Harry watched her carefully schooled features twitch again and start to twist into a more indignant expression full of disgust as he painted the picture for her. "Imagine also..them getting very...comfortable. Maybe snogging...maybe something else. Maybe something more like what you two were doing when I found you."

Hermione's face curled into the perfect picture of distaste and jealousy bordering on rage the longer he kept at it, insinuating that image of Malfoy being ridden by that bitch Parkinson without a care in the world. Her traitorous mind added the delightful feral noises of pleasure that she'd come to enjoy from him – ones that only _she_ was allowed to extract from him – plus the ones she knew escaped her at his ministrations, except her imagination added the screechy, obnoxious, pug-nosed filter on top of it to complete the stomach turning coupling. In her head she saw his hands roving over the other woman's naked – and 'big tittied' according to Draco – body, rubbing fondly at a belly where his offspring grew. Those silver eyes full of passion and need and desire...for Pansy.

The witch saw red and barely registered the menacing noise rumbling from her throat, making to head for the fireplace and give the cheating bastard a piece of her mind when Harry grabbed her arm to keep her from storming off. Looking at him she remembered it was just a hypothetical situation and she growled again, smacking at him for ever putting the picture in her head in the first place. "What was the point of all that?!"

Harry held up his hands, urging her to keep from lighting into him, "I can guarantee you that's what Malfoy saw tonight," he tapped his temple, "In here. And that," he gestured to her still seething form, "Is how he felt."

Her anger lessened if only a little as the understanding dawned on her, putting Draco's jealous fit into perspective. Her eyes locked onto the fireplace for a long moment, the urge to go to him very strong, though her stubbornness won out and she eventually turned back to Harry with an unrestrained groan. "Buggering hell, I fancy Draco Malfoy."

Harry laughed humorlessly at his friend and hugged her to his side, rubbing her back when she buried her still groaning face into his chest. "Apparently so. I'll tell you what, even after things not working out between you and Ron, _that_ is certainly one I never would have seen coming."

Hermione moaned in dismay and flopped back against the cushions of her couch, covering her face with her hands and grumbling through them, "Me neither." She sighed. "I'm not ready for this."

He flopped back with her, folding his arms over his stomach and stared up at her ceiling. "With him? Or at all?"

Hermione peeled one hand away from her face, resting it over her abdomen and joining in on the ceiling staring. "Either? Both? I don't know...I was getting used to being alone again," her voice was quiet, filled with an uncharacteristic emptiness when she glanced over to his face, "It was simpler, you know?"

Harry offered her a sympathetic smile and reached over to squeeze the hand on her belly with one of his own. "Yeah. I do."

She just nodded, remembering a period of time when Harry had tried to distance himself from them all in the midst of everything. At least his motivations were well intentioned. He was tired of people fighting and dying around him, for him, because of him. She was just...tired. Hermione was tired of trying and failing in the area of relationships. Not just intimate relationships, relationships in general. She felt she could scour a thousand libraries the size of the one at Hogwarts or greater for years to come and for every book, every piece of parchment on the subject of building and maintaining relationships with other people and she'd still be just as stupid and ignorant about it as when she started.

People praised her for being so bloody brilliant and she didn't even understand how to maintain a friendship properly if it didn't involve a mess of curses, near death experiences, or just general strife somewhere in the lineup. Hell, if the situation with Draco had not come about, she probably still wouldn't be speaking with Harry even now! After her parents died, she'd filled the days with dealing with her unwelcome new social standing in the wizarding world, along with Ron and Harry's and there was so little time to think about it. Then she got swept away in her joke of a relationship with the redhead until that got to be too much and she fretted so long about how to end it gracefully until it happened in the worst way possible the other year. No, she was rubbish at maintaining a normal kind of relationship with anyone – she either got them killed or made them hate her, it seemed. Hermione felt a warm tug on the hand Harry still held and found him looking at her.

"It's simpler. Not better."

Hermione gave him a small smile at his quiet wisdom and readjusted herself on the couch to curl up against his side, closing her eyes when she felt the heat of his embrace and she sighed into his chest woefully. "What I'm am I supposed to do?"

Harry shrugged, rubbing her back, "That's up to you. But I dare say he's almost as stubborn as you, so you'll have to see him again sooner or later."

Her chuckle shook her shoulders and she peeked up at him, "I don't know if I should be offended by that or not." Hermione fiddled with one of the buttons on his shirt in a nervous fashion. "You're being awfully understanding about this all. Especially with it involving Draco, of all people. What gives?"

He didn't miss the use of the man's given name but didn't linger on it. "I told you already. I was tipped off that there was something happening that involved you two a couple days ago so I had a little time to brace myself. Believe me when I tell you that my mind already went through all the absolute worst case scenarios," Harry's mouth twitched in a frown, "I was hoping when I got a chance to see you and talk to you again that I'd find out something completely harmless...like you two went into some kind of fancy wizard's landscaping business or some hogwash."

Hermione couldn't help the laugh that pushed through at the ridiculous idea.

The wizard grinned and squeezed her tight. "I'm not going to judge your decisions, Hermione. I trust you. I've always trusted you, you've never done anything but be the best kind of friend you could be to me. I'm not about to sit here and question your choices...or your sanity, as much as I'd like to." That earned him a smack on the chest, "Just...be careful if this is what you want, okay? I'm not Ron. I'm not going tell you what you can do and who you can do it with, I just want you happy and I want you safe."

Hermione felt the warm prickle of tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and she sniffed, rubbing at them with the heels of her hands and burying her face more firmly against his chest. "Thanks Harry. I really can't tell you how much that means to me."

He nodded, rubbing soothing strokes along her back before brightening and chirping happily, "On the bright side, if he does hurt you in any way, that means I CAN punch him in his pointy face, right? That gives me like a free pass or something."

Her laughter overrode the sentimental tears that had been gathering at the seriousness of their talk and she smacked him again halfheartedly.

Harry gave her a reassuring squeeze and pulled away finally to place a kiss to her forehead, "Hey, I hate to leave but I need to get home before Ginny starts sounding the alarm looking for me. Will you be alright?"

"Yeah," Hermione nodded, taking another swipe at her eyes to clear them of the lingering moisture and pushed off the couch onto her feet. "Will you tell her I said hello?"

"Absolutely!" He grinned, following her to stand before the fireplace, "You should tell her yourself too. How about you come over this Sunday? I can even see if it'll be safe for the ferret to come if you want."

She returned the grin with one of her own, "I'd really like that! I don't think planning for Malfoy will be necessary though..in fact I think I'd rather like to keep that as low key as possible for the time being."

Nodding, the wizard took a handful of the Floo powder she kept in a fancy clay cup on the mantel. "Let me know. See you Sunday?"

"Sunday!" Hermione gave him a huge smile and another hug before sending him on his way.

_'Things might just be starting to get better again.'_

.-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. .-"-. "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-" "-.-"

Things were not better. Things were not better at all.

These were the thoughts whirling through her head as she was propped up against the tub of her bathroom, light headed and dizzy, eyes shut tight and even the darkness behind her eyelids swirled making them flutter. Her shoulders jerked intermittently when the strange anxiety and fatigue would turn into sharp pricks of pain and spasms.

How could she have forgotten this lovely aspect of the curse?

The blood oath that Bellerose had spoken of, not being able to be away from each other for long or else..._this_. She'd completely forgotten until now. She couldn't clearly remember an exchanging of blood but their first night together was one huge blur of questionable activities that there was no way she could pick out the instance in which it happened; it was the only thing that made any sense though. At least Hermione knew for certain that the two of them had spoken NO kind of vow to each other, although blood magic was funny in the way that it could be even more dangerous without laying out words of command to focus and bind it properly – leaving it to run loose would only end in disaster.

Hermione cracked open her eyes, relieved when the room spun only briefly before it settled into its proper place. Bellerose had been able to stave off the effects of the oath somehow for a while...maybe with a potion? She scrambled to her feet, leaning heavily on her bathroom counter and dragging herself over to the medicine cabinet, wincing at the spiking jabs of pain in her head and shoulders as she did so. Finally reaching the destination, she ripped open the door and rifled through small vials of various potions she'd brewed to have on hand. She found remnants of a pain potion, not enough to accomplish anything and she hadn't thought to replenish it before...

'_A sleeping draught! __If I can't get rid of it maybe I can sleep through it.._'

Relieved at finding the vial, she uncapped it and took a pronounced swig, some of the liquid making its way down the back of her throat before her eyes shot open, wide and panicked and she spat it all out into the sink as though it were the most bitter tasting drink on earth. Her mind was so muddled she'd almost forgotten of the pregnancy. She had no idea what effects the draught would have on a developing baby, especially this early on. It could be nothing, it could be everything that mattered, she had no way of telling – she didn't even know if the woman had been telling the truth but it was a risk she couldn't take. Hermione spat and spat, draining her mouth of saliva and clawing frantically at her tongue with her fingers as though that were going to help, all the while muttering an anxious 'sorry' after 'sorry' after 'sorry' in the direction of her belly.

Another stinging lash of pain that seemed to encompass her head, neck, and back all in one halted her expulsion of the potion and brought her to her knees onto the cold tile. Hermoine cried out at the sharp sting of her kneecaps striking the ceramic and found herself back in the position she started in, braced on all fours and panting through the waves of uncontrolled exhaustion and anguish taking effect from the blood bond she and Draco shared. Draco...she needed to get to him. She could be mad at him in the morning, but she just needed to be near him _now_.

Pushing through everything, Hermione made herself crawl on shaky limbs from the bathroom towards her fireplace. The more she moved, the heavier her body felt and she began to wonder if she'd gotten the draught out of her system in time. She could see the flames flickering, she was so close, she felt the heat of the fire as she forced herself to move, grunting with the effort. Hermione felt hopeful as she reopened access to the Manor and pulled herself to her feet to reach the Floo powder. Her nails dug into the stone frame, scraping and splitting them with the pressure she put behind the grip to stand her upright. Her hand was in the clay dish when another skull splitting lash of pain ripped through her, lurching the world onto its side. She screamed at the suddenness of it and lost her balance and footing, crumbling to the carpet and curling in on herself. Hermione vaguely recognized the sound of the dish clattering onto the hearth, green fire bursting as the powder coated everything. Her eyes shut from the heavy beating pain pounding behind them and she only managed the soft murmur of Draco's name before darkness overtook her completely.

**_Friday__, February 1__7__, 2001 – __10:00AM_**

_Warmth. Floating. It felt like she was floating in a sea of clouds._

_No pain, it was gone. Somewhere along the line it had faded and she felt light._

_Light. Light was hitting her face, she felt it heating her cheeks._

When she opened her eyes she was staring at her ceiling. Again. A jumble of thoughts waited for her sluggish mind to pick apart and examine. Hermione blinked once. Twice. Three times at the ceiling of her bedroom and for the life of her, with everything she did remember through the pain induced haze from last night she couldn't figure out how she got into her bed. Her eyes moved first, languidly searching her surroundings for signs of what happened.

She laid on one half of the bed, the fitted sheet beneath her warm and she surmised that she'd been there for at least a few hours. Her arm reached weakly to the empty spot beside her and she found it just as warm if not more so and she unconsciously scooted towards the heat. Her body was heavy, so heavy, like it was made of stone and her head was still fuzzy but she vaguely remembered calling out to Draco before she'd passed out from the pain.

_'..did he?..'_

Draco's blonde head, mussed from sleep, came into view in the doorway.

_'Speak of the devil and he will appear.'_

Hermione noted he was bare chested and clad in only the slacks from the previous evening. If she was feeling less like she had been hit by the Hogwarts Express she may have taken more appreciation in the way his sleek muscles moved under his skin, not an ounce of fat clinging to his midsection. She would have noticed the way the transfigured pants were now a bit too large and hung low on his hips barely concealing the destination of the sparse trail of pale hairs at the center of his abdomen. Instead she was much more interested in the tray he was carrying and the strong aroma of cooked meat wafting from it.

"Good morning," he said carefully, unsure of what the woman's reaction to him in her flat would be.

Sensing his hesitance, she narrowed her eyes, his reaction brought the encounter from the night before to the surface and Hermione remembered that she was supposed to be mad at him. "Good morning." She was going for terse but her tongue felt dry and thick in her mouth and it came out as a croak instead.

The blonde frowned and settled the tray onto the nightstand next to her, politely offering her the glass of orange juice which to his surprise she accepted eagerly. He helped her sit upright, repositioning the pillows behind her back and greatly resisting the urge to tuck her flyaway curls behind her ear. "How are you feeling?"

"Like death warmed over," she responded slowly after a long swallow of juice. Hermione gave him a small glare, "And still mad at you."

Draco smirked at that and reached to push her stubborn hair from her face while she was busy drinking, "I know. I'm sorry."

The witch's glare only became more suspicious at how readily the apology was given but she didn't have the energy to get into it at the moment. She glanced to the tray of delicious looking food instead, feasting her eyes upon several strips of thinly sliced steak with just the right amount of pink in the center set next to two sunny side up eggs that butted up against a small pile of cubed and pan-fried potatoes. Along with her glass of juice and food, he'd brought a glass of milk and water – probably covering all his bases – and a set of utensils with napkin.

"Where did you get this?"

He shrugged, "You seemed like you were going to be out for a while after I woke up so I thought you might like breakfast."

Her eyebrow arched skeptically, "You had your elves fix me something?"

Draco scoffed, "And leave you alone again? Hardly! I made it."

"_You_ made this?" She placed her glass back onto the stand next to her, "And how, pray tell, did you manage that?"

He rolled his eyes at her obtuse manner, "With my hands?" The bed dipped from where he took a seat next to her and he moved the tray over her lap. "Can you just eat it and stop asking so many questions?"

Hermione took the fork and poked at the steak like it was going to jump out at her, "You DO remember who you're talking to, right?"

The wizard chuckled softly, some tension releasing from his shoulders at the fact she was feeling well enough to snark at him. The evening had been a huge blur for him as well after Hermione had stormed out of his Manor – _no, after he kicked her out of his Manor_ – the pain of the separation didn't begin for him until late the night before. He recalled that he'd worked himself into a frenzy in the sitting room, trying his best to rip everything to shreds and he vaguely remembered the frustrations of the furniture repairing itself due to the charms in place before his fireplace had sprang to life and he'd heard her calling to him. When Draco found her in her flat to say she'd looked 'bad' would have been kind. Her skin had paled to a shade that rivaled his, her veins dark and spidery beneath the translucent flesh, and she'd been cold to the touch. Her lips had a pronounced tinge of blue to them and though her eyes were shut, the skin around them was bruised along with the hollows of her cheeks giving her an eerie skeletal look. His heart dropped in dread thinking she was dead and he nearly went on a rampage until she finally responded to his presence and his touch.

Draco frowned and ran his hand over her curls soothingly, more for himself than her. "Please just eat something."

The anger she'd still harbored for him diminished some at his pleading tone and the curious way he was doting over her. Her stubborn nature wanted to protest and continue being resistant to his attentions but it was overruled by how good it felt to have his fingers combing through her hair and she shivered whenever they caught on a tangle and tugged at sensitive parts of her scalp. Hermione sighed finally and nodded, skewering some of the cooked meat with her fork and tearing a chunk off with her teeth to chew it cautiously. She turned an amazed look at Draco, barely remembering to swallow it before speaking. "This is excellent! Where on earth did you learn how to cook? WHEN did you learn how to cook?"

He grinned, beaming more at her praise than he let on. "I suppose my rehabilitation program was more useful than I thought."

"You learned this through rehab?" This time she was clearly speaking through a mouthful of steak now. "Wait...then does that mean you did this-"

"The Muggle way?" His broad shoulders shrugged and he nudged the plate at her to indicate she should keep eating. "It was one of the many things required of me to help illustrate how 'reformed' I was. What better way to show the wizarding community that the prat from one of the most blood biased and snootily rich families in our collective history whose household hosted Lord Voldemort himself that he's 'all better' than by having him learn how to function in Muggle society and fund their charities?"

Hermione scowled at the bitter tone his voice held, "You regret having to go through with it?"

He blinked over at her and noticed the dark look decorating her face, knowing that his next answer would decide the mood for the rest of the day. Unlike last night, he had a bit more of himself about him and gave her another of his arrogant smirks, "Me? Used to being waited on hand and foot for the entirety of my adolescent life? Given everything I ever could have wanted or asked for? Having at one point been able to force my way to get what I wanted if it wasn't given? Of course I _did_." When she opened her mouth with the clear intent on reprimanding him for being the spoiled child he was he clapped a warm hand over her mouth, earning him an even deeper scowl that made him laugh. "I would be lying to you if I told you anything else. I got over it, though. I mean...at one point it was either that or just make myself miserable indefinitely." He let his hand drop from her face.

Begrudgingly, the witch took another piece of magnificently seasoned steak, swirling it around in her egg yolk before popping it into her mouth making sure to fix him with a stern glare so that he knew she still didn't approve of his story thus far despite the enthusiasm peeking through at the tasty meal. "Thank Merlin for small favors," she commented sarcastically.

Draco snorted, "Change doesn't happen overnight. And for the record I found cooking...interesting."

"Oh?"

"Yes well...it's a bit like potions isn't it? Gather and prepare the ingredients. Add them together at the right times...let them simmer or boil or whatever the case and then present them. You can follow a recipe or experiment once you understand the properties something holds and see what comes of it. I suppose it was the easiest thing for me to relate to things I already knew."

She inclined her head to one side, thoughtfully savoring the carefully flavored potatoes and humming her agreement. "I suppose that does make sense. Well that begs the next question-"

"Granger," Draco groaned, "Can you not just shut your gob for twenty minutes and eat the damn food?"

Unfazed, Hermione wiggled closer to one side of the bed patting the empty spot beside her where she gathered he fell asleep before. "Point of fact – no." She waited for him to settle and transferred the tray to his lap, opting instead to lean against the pillows with her legs curled beneath her and pick the food from the plate that way. She felt one of his arms drape itself across her headboard and felt his hand rest lightly between her shoulderblades to rub those same little circles on her back again, although at this point she didn't even think he realized he was doing it. "The question is: what kind of state did you leave my kitchen in? Also, do you plan on replacing this steak you cooked?"

"That's two questions."

A shrug. "Inquiring minds want to know."

"Eat the damn food, Granger."

"Hrmm.."

Maybe things _would_ be getting better after all. Only time would tell in the end, unfortunately time was not a luxury either of them had.

**_Friday__, February 1__7__, 2001 – __3:00PM_**

It only took a handful of hours but Hermione finally accepted Draco's apology for losing his temper. It helped that he spent most of those hours buttering her up as subtly as possible by assisting her around her flat with a plethora of domestic tasks that she was otherwise unable to take care of due to recovering from her malady, she was only just now feeling strong enough to hobble around the apartment. The whole picture was decidedly odd if anyone were to ask her. Draco Malfoy, once the poster boy for Pureblood supremacy shuffling around her kitchen – sans magic – preparing them both sandwiches and tea that smelled as good if not better than the little snacks his house elves fixed for them the few times she was able to come over to discuss his case.

Currently, Hermione was back to sitting on her bed propped up by her pillows with her freshly washed and dried hair piled on top of her head and secured with a simple wooden hairpin. She had one of Bellerose's larger tomes open in her lap, a notepad and pen to her right and a small stack of journals she'd already been through to her left. The topic of interest at the moment being the blood bond's effects and more unpleasant side effects. The previous journals included her handwritten record of experiences during and after her estrangement from her cursed husband as well as some early disjointed entries about brewing potions that treated and subdued some effects her son suffered through prior to his marriage to Ellisandra. None of the symptoms from the blood bonding she'd noted were anywhere near as severe as what her and Draco had experienced last night and the one before, so she'd graduated on to the large spell book she was now flipping through.

This one had a very interesting section on blood magic in general that she found Belle seemed hugely interested in if she were to judge by all the notations in the margins – it reminded her a bit of the potions book that belonged to her deceased potions professor once upon a time. From the script she'd breezed through thus far, she gathered Bellerose was a very powerful witch for her time. Some of the spells, potions, and rituals she referenced were things Hermione never even heard of but the majority of them seemed very dark in nature as well...or at least they had a very significant appeal if used irresponsibly. The more she ventured through the text, the more she was glad Draco had insisted that they leave when they did and based on the woman's history she deduced that the very surroundings of her manor and the magic undoubtedly engrained into its very structure had been mussing her mind.

Hermione had just begun to read through a paragraph about the taboo of blood magic within the civilized wizarding word and how the blood bond and oath Belle and Rhydderch took would have been just as legally binding as the proceeding marital vows – if not more so – when the thick book was snatched away from her view by a tall blonde shooting her a rather expectant look. "Hey! I was reading that!"

Draco rolled his eyes at her and held the tome well out of her reach with ease. "Yes, you usually are. Come on, time for food."

"Draco Malfoy, return that book to me at once! We practically just ate a few hours ago, I'm not at all hungry! Honestly Malfoy, are you already trying to fatten me up?" Hermione groused and stretched from her spot on the mattress chastising him and trying to grab at the book all at once.

The blonde flushed at her astute assessment but nudged her back onto the bed and set the text far away from her onto the dresser while slyly ignoring the question. "You need to get your strength back up. Part of that requires you eating and _not_ overdoing it with the research."

Hermione growled softly, tossing back her comforter and shakily setting her feet on the carpeted floor while his back was turned. "I'm FINE. I feel much, much bett—AH!"

The witch stumbled at the height of her proclamation, her legs not yet used to bearing her weight after the strange magic had sapped her energy so recently. This wasn't the first time today that she'd tried to walk on her own and nearly taken a header into her floor or furniture. Draco was there in a second, supporting her easily and glowering, "You're 'Much, much better.' I know...yet here we are again."

She tried to pry his grip from her arms, snapping when he refused to budge, "I don't like being babied. I'm not an invalid and it's not like I'm on my death bed, so you can stop with this rubbish!"

"Sod your fucking pride will you?" Draco growled back but the look in his eyes was more haunted than angry.

Hermione stopped in her weak but stubborn thrashing taking a serious moment to examine the way he was staring down at her. It looked as though he'd seen a ghost, as though she weren't really there with him now, and the way he was acting far more clingy than she'd ever pegged the man capable of being, she began to wonder what it was that shocked him into such a state of concern for her health. She asked him with a deep frown, "What happened to you?"

"Nothing," he answered too quickly trying to help her towards the dining area but she refused to cooperate. Draco sighed, the well made facade of calm exiting the scene swiftly to allow her a clear view of a very haggard, very desperate looking man. "Will you just go?"

"No," she replied simply, staring at his silvery eyes that were currently making their best efforts not to look at her. "Draco." She cupped his cheek with one of her hands and the man exhaled, nuzzling into the warmth of her palm and wrapping his grip around her dainty fingers.

"You were dead," Draco finally said lamely breaking Hermione's patient stretch of silence. "I was so sure of it when I found you." The wizard moved her grip from his cheek and took both of her hands in his, pressing soft lips to the backs of her knuckles before taking her into the circle of his arms with much less protest than before. He brushed the ever stubborn strands of curls that freed themselves from her bun behind an ear and allowed himself the luxury of a lingering touch to her soft sun-kissed skin. "You were lying there cold and still and barely breathing...because of me."

"Draco it wasn't you-"

"Oh bullshit," he countered but it lacked his usual venom behind it. "You know it was. We know now more than ever the mess we're in because of that crazy Belle bitch," he nodded to the stacks of journals he'd been helping her with.

Hermione leaned back in the cradle of his embrace to take him in, she didn't much care for the extra broody expression that occupied his features for most of the day and this very moment. She had too much of an urge to make it disappear, missing the smartassed, smarmy, confident wizard she was much more used to. The witch exhaled heavily and slid her arms up his chest encircling his neck using one of her hands to fiddle with the silky short hairs at the base of his neck, earning her an amusing and contented rumbling purr. "Well, I suppose you should take heart in the fact that I'm not quite finished with correcting everything you louse up and keeping your idiotic and egotistical prat face in line, Mr. Malfoy. So you see, I can't be bothered to die on you just yet."

The silence of the next few minutes was strained by the anticipation hanging in the air. Draco just stared down at her with a wide-eyed expression caught somewhere between being offended at her making light of his distress and ultimately thankful that she did so. Hermione's heart pounded harshly in her chest as she waited for a response from him, wondering if she was too bold in her jest until he finally blew out a shaky breath in the form of a relieved chuckle.

Draco clutched her tightly and breathed in the fresh scent of her shampoo and soap and fragrance that was just inherently _Hermione_. "That's good since I'm not done throwing a stop into all your carefully plotted arrangements and being a general disruption in everything you do."

She snorted, "Pillock."

He nodded into her hair and grunted softly.

"...thank you.." Hermione mumbled into his neck after a while and felt his chin shift its position, imagining the curious quirk to his head above her. "..for saving me."

Draco nodded again, a distinct warmth spreading through him at the way she curled into him, allowing him to hold her as he did. He wasn't sure when everything changed for him, but it had. If he possessed any doubt before, it was all quashed the _second_ he found her collapsed and lifeless form in front of the hearth and faced the very real possibility that she was dead. The moment of that reality shook him to his very core and he realized so quickly how much of his life was truly affected by this woman in the last decade of his life. As he cradled her limp figure to him in nothing but the fading firelight and undisturbed silence, unwelcome images of his life without her shoved their way to the forefront of his mind. Not having her to tease and annoy, to anger, to row with...not having that intellectual equal...more recently, not having the chance to make her laugh and smile;he wasn't ready for her to be gone, not so suddenly, not like that. Not without properly making her his.

"You're welcome." He mumbled into her hair between a few light presses of his lips, "Stay."

It was her turn to nod.


End file.
